m 






tMl'* r-.' M_iLiA*£iiiij 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

PS 2^^^ 

©I|ati Oatt^nB^ fa 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




%^Uxk)^jUD VK-'^Wu^ 



POEMS, 



RHYMESandVERSES, 



-BY- 



^/ 



^ 3 MAURICE MCKENNA, 



FOND DU LAC, WIS.: 

SPENCER PALMER, PRINTER. 

1890. 




Mr 



Copyright, 1890, by 
MAURICE McKENNA. 



CONTENTS. 



The Pioneer - - - - - 13 

Irena's Lesson - - _ _ . 54 

Horatio's History - - - - 118 

Elva Lee . - . . ... igQ 

Melcha's Mission ... . . 223 

Intemperance - - - - - 267 

The Slave's Revenge - - - - 308 

The Picture that Hangs on the Wall - 318 

The Nation's Deeender - - - 320 

There is Crape upon the Door - - 324 

Pride ...... 330 

The Transformation - - - - 335 

Lines at a Cyprian's Grave - - 338 

The Painting - - - - - 343 

Carrier's Address for 1869-70 - - 344 

Lake De Nevue - - - - 354 

The Last Woman - . - . . 35(3 

The Excursion . . . . . 362 

Lines to a Lady . . . . . 330 

My Truant Mustache - - - 381 

Two Histories . - - . . 333 



8 contents. 

On a Robin Shot Near its Nest - - - 385 

James Wiseman Carney - - - 388 

Evanescexce - - - - - . - 389 

To a Sister's Memory - - - - 391 

Mrs. Fannie Crowe - .... 39(3 

Mrs. Annie E. McKenna .... 399 

George Hardgrove - - - - 402 

J. H. HoBART Brown - - - 404 

Allie Crawford ... - - 405 

Gen. Thomas F. Meagher - - - 408 

Mary Jane SxMIth - - - - - 410 

Col. Sumner L. Brasted - - - 412 

Michael G. Nash - - - - - 414 

Anna Wall - ... - 4I6 

Joseph Crele - - - - - 418 

Genethliac - ... - - 422 

Minnie Baker - ' 430 

New Year's Wish ..... 433 

Washington Rink - - - - - 437 

My Dead Comrade - - - - 440 

Our Old High School in 'G1 - - - 444 

To James Bowe, Esq. - - - - 448 

Celia - - - - - - 451 

No More ... - - 452 

The Private Soldier - - - - 455 

Thomas F. McKenna - - - - - 458 

Calvary Cemetry . . . . . 461 

One Hundred Years 463 



PREFACE. 

Tlie large majority of tlie following compositions, — 
all of thinn in fact, — except occasional oljituary lines, 
and some short ctforts of similar character, liave been 
completed more than twenty years ago. They were 
written at a period in the author's life, before he had yet 
entered upon its stern realities, and when he was still 
undecided what calling, among the men and women of 
his own generation, he should pursue, to obtain for him- 
self an honorable livelihood, and, at the same time, 
accomplish something which should command, e\en 
though in a slight degree, their good opinion and esteem. 

One of them has been already published in book form 
and a few others in periodicals of various places, times, 
and descriptions. The controlling motive of their publi- 
cation now is to preserve, in some more tangible form 
than the mutilated pages of a scrap-book, or in .scattered 
manuscripts, these children of his fancy of the long ago. 

Their composition required some labor, but, to the 
writer, it was an occupation which amounted to a pas- 
time, — a labor, indeed, of love —and, in many instances 



10 AUTiloK's I'RKFAC'E. 

\uH Hole consolation in surroundings of sadness and dis- 
couragement, and his comfort and companion in many 
a solitary and despondent hour. It is hut a natural 
desire on his part to perpetuate them in some perma- 
nent form, — at least so long as it pleases Providence 
that his own life should he spared, — that, haply, at some 
future times, wlien oj^portunity permits, and inclination 
prompts, he may turn aside, from his zealous and exact- 
ing mistress of the law, to those early recollections, and 
hallowed incidents of the past, which, for him, they en- 
kindle and recall. 

Lookino- hack from the noondav of an all too check- 
ered life to the time these lines were chiefiy written, 
the author believes he has achieved some successes, 
professionally and otherwise, amon.g his fellow men. 
He has enjoyed some triuni])hs, has tasted deeply of 
disappointment and adversity, and experienced many 
keen and bitter humiliations. He has known and felt 
the inspiring influence of disinterested friendship and 
christian forljearance — of men as well as women — far 
beyond his deserts ; and after all that he has felt, enjoy- 
ed, and suffered, and, when so many opportunities of 
his life are irrevocaljly passed, he can now regretfully 
see how it could liave been amended and its usefulness 
extended and improved. The following stanzas, on some 
of those occasions, reflect his feelings, and, for this reason, 
if for no other, remain endeared among the varying 
experiences and reminiscences of his life. 



author's preface. 11 

Some of the minor pieces and obituary notices are 
inserted here, not because of any particular merit they 
are beheved to possess, but because they awaken liallow- 
ed recollections of scenes and friends that have passed 
from the stage of life forever. 

This volume is pu])lished, not, in the hope, nor, even 
with the purpose, of seeking, or obtaining, any pecuniary 
reward, nor in ihe belief that it will secure to the author 
any general or very extended fame ; although he avow- 
edly looks forward to the pleasing possibility that, in 
years to come, some congenial eye may look its pages 
over and find, perchance, therein some sentiment that 
honors the writer's memory, when all other more arduous, 
pretentious, and temporary, labors, and toils, and suc- 
cesses, and adversities, of his life, — nay, even himself, 
may be well-nigh forgotten. 

Such as they are, he submits them to the candid judg- 
ment of an impartial world, — confident that, in the end, 
they will be justly dealt with, irrespective of whether 
that justice shall meet condemnation, or challenge com- 
pliments, to him ; and, with no other ceremony, parade, 
excuse, or tinsel, than these few statements, here set 
down in sincerity and truth, — almost indifferently to the 
writer, and, certainly, with no vain-glorious, self-conceited, 
or egotistic, spirit, they are launched upon the sea of 
literature, to steer what course, and find what port, they 
may. 
Fond du Lac, Wis., Feb. 25th, 1888. 



THE PIONEER. 

Fair friends, retire we here awhile 
. Before the coal fire glow, 
Reverting with a thoughtful smile 
To some old tale of love and guile, 

A thousand years ago. 
Yes, there were men and women then. 

Like men and women now ; 
Far back, almost beyond our ken, 
The ring-dove cooed in grove and glen. 
Let narrative trim green again 

The plumage round her brow. 

Suffice it thai those years are gone 
• In which they lived and died. 
And free be time to canter on : 
'Cold death has given to many a one 



14 THE PIONEER. 

The warmtli that hfe denied. 
In that vague harbor where they He 

One day must we reef sail, 
And wlien our season comes to die 
It will be proper, by and by, 
For some to laugh and some to cry ; 

But now we troll a tale. 

Blue stillness smiled on ocean's rocks, 

A maiden false and free, 
She skimmed the sky of its dark flocks 
And clipped tlie foamy silver locks 

From the Samson of the sea ; 
' The winds resigned their shrewish sway, 

The tempest reel was o'er. 
The very thought of sound was gray, 
And the sun led out the steed of day. 
As the wanderer plied his lonely way 

On a far and stranger shore. 

To heaven no l)illow did belong 

Where a whisper's hull might float ; 

Throughout the forest plumage throngs 

Each bright bird hung his robe of song; 
In the parlor of his throat. 

The trance of summer overspread 
Each mountain, vale, and linn ; 

The June-beams lacked no solar bread. 



THE PIONEER. 15 

P)iit the old man's heart was full of lead, — 
December on his palsied head, 
And its snow-flakes on his chin. 

The bushes and the courtesying brake 

Were overflown with joy, 
The frisking bee and basking snake ; 
The sapling hanging in the lake 

A thoughtless timber boy. 
The insect in its shelly cage 

Confessed no glum control, 
But this weak exile could not guage 
His own stift' limbs with their rash rage, 
For the stormy, frosty, blast of age 

Was whistling through his soul. 

1 saw him cast a lonely look 

On a melancholy rhyme 
In the last leaf of a lidless book, 
As he trembled on the bearded hook 

Of the fisherman of time. 
As soft it trickled o'er the ear 

Of each unguarded thought, 
A broken list is scheduled here. 
From his dark bosom, sad, sincere, 
Each sentence pointed with a tear, 

A slow deliverance sought. 



16 THE PIONEER. 

" Yes; r have lived, my life has flown 

Like a dew-drop in July, 
My days are rusted to the bone, 
And loneliness has hewn a throne 

In the ashes of mine eye. 
.V weary hermit, many a day 

Was worn in whims and feuds, 
Since tirst I stalked its ledgy way 
When my ambition in its May 
Essayed with medial powers to sway 

These primal solitudes. 

" Haught, giant-armed, inflexile, trees 

Were feathered with green quills 
When first I kissed their knotty knees 
But time has eaten by degrees 

The mammoths of the hills. 
Some rustic plowman has been fast 

With his relentless share ; 
Fair maidens of the forest va>st. 
Shorn of their summer silk, he cast 
Where his capriciousness amassed 

Destruction here and there. 

"Still I remain an uncalked oak, 

A raveled fract of twine, 
My burned out heart, a lump of coke 
Asleep in the ungilded cloak 



THE PIONEER. 17 

Of hope's deceptive shine. 
The winds strip nnde tlie wooden isles 

Of dell and monntain peak, 
Yet spring renews their leafv tiles, 
But no impartial month beguiles 
The foliage l)ack of those fresh smiles 

Long faded from my cheek. 

" The axles of my dreams are worn 

To service insecure, 
The fal)ric of my manhood torn. 
And fond expectance rudely shorn 

Of all its fleecy lure : 
The frame, in which my soul is set, 

Is dozy grown and gray, 
The gilt that once encased it yet 
Betrays its ancient alphabet. 
But those rich symbols soon forget- 

Their lineage of clay. 

" And here I am, a lonely man 

Far from my boyhood home, 
The guide star of a timorous van. 
Fenced from the fellows of my clan 

By a thousand leagues of foam ; 
The title of my meek abode, 

Unknighted and unearled. 
With often a suggestive goad. 



18 THE PIONEER. 

And more that one coquettish node, 
Like (kist along an August road, 
Is sifted round the world. 



" How often do I fancy still 

To play the bumpkin games 
That occupied my life, until 
Care's reservoir began to fill 

AVith more unhoneyed claims. 
I climb again the snowy steep 

Of Iceland's chilly mound ; 
Unmindful now, as then, to keep 
A shepherd's glance on those stray sheep 
Who chew the cud of death, asleep 

In monumental ground. 

" O icy world ! thou canst not boast 

Thou has Ijefriended me. 
What most I treasured cheated most 
My every vessel on the coast 

Of smooth prosperity. 
I little have to thank thee for 

In the circlet of my years ; 
Unceasing, solitary, war 
With all I love, dej)lore, abhor. 
Complete the debt all-ruling Thor 

Can charge to my arrears. 



THE PIONEER. 19 

" Adown the drift of time's wild bay 

I linger still to float ; 
The bond against my life is gray, 
And soon must come the hour to pay 

The promissory note. 
Ah ! I am dight this many a year 

To cancel that poor claim : 
A few frail gasps, perchance a tear. 
The sole possession I have here. 
Not e'en the mockery of a bier 

Shall comfort this old frame. 

" There was a point in other days 

When lofty hopes were mine ; 
I ^vas not fain to shun the gaze, 
Of Adam-kind in the l)road l)laze 

(3f youth's solstitial line : 
And I had reason for the pride 

I sowed along my brow ; 
Through all my country far and wide, 
Few peers there were who cared to chide ■ 
My vanities in their rash tide, 

So torn and humble now. 

" No blither laugh was heard among 

The comrades of my youth, 
No brusquer heart, or suppler tongue, 
Or gayer string, was ever strung 



20 THE PIONEER. 

To the tenor key of truth. 
And I had deemed, wlien pleasure's press 

Would give me time for tliought, 
No greater dole of luip})iiiess 
Descended on our vales to bless 
A human mortal ; ne'ertheless 

New conquest fields were sought. 

" That was a precious flower that bloomed 

'Mid Iceland's chilly hills. 
The atmosphere the l)lo\v perfunied 
Entranced my taste, and I presumed 

To steal it from its rills. 
A rich addition, I conceived, 

Were added to my bliss. 
Could I secure what 1 believed 
No brave adventurer e'er achieved 
In all he doomed, forgave, reprieved, 

From Eden down till this. 

" Divine Thurida ! thou wert all 
That fancy's self could build ; 

A thousand gallants owned thy thrall, 

A thousand gathered at thy call 
Where'er thy scepter willed. 

Thy spotless beauty shamed the fleece 
Of the whitest in the flocks ; 

Thy coquetry and thy caprice 



THE PIONEER. 21 

Effected many a sheer release 
Of ripe content and summer peace 
From Iceland's sons and rocks. 

"But seldom nature's powers create 

A gem so fair to see : 
An angel peeping through the gate 
Of paradise might imitate 

New grace fi'om such as thee. 
No eye that ever saw thee said 

They ever saw thy peer ; 
A richer crown hung on thy head. 
Than fortune's favors ever shed 
On any devotee still wed 

To fancy's blind career. 

"Thurida ! there is music in the word, 

That thrilled me when a boy : 
How often, often, has it stirred 
My heart, lit up my soul's cold bird. 

To one wild flame of joy : — 
A nameless trance, that seemed to steal 

Anticipation's thrones, 
An essence I would fain reveal. 
But which my power may not unseal, 
As something that I still can feel 

Crawl through these aged bones. 



22 



THE PIONEER. 

" Could but the conquering soldier train 

His legions in tlie tield 
With half the ease thy gifts sustain 
Dominion o'er the raptured swain 

Thy glances teach to yield, 
Or could the monarch rule his realm 

With a fragment of thy grace, 
Sedition would not hew the elm, 
Nor rank ]"ebellion overwhelm ; — 
Oh, there's an all commanding helm 
In the fiagshi}) of thy face ! 

" I wonder dost thou dream of me, 

In thy far off island home, 
Of my seclusion o'er the sea, 
80 distant from my joys and thee 

In this woodland's verdant foam ! 
1 have no need to muse. An age 

Has slowly i)assed a^^'ay 
►Since last I trod my heritage; 
The childmates of my pilgrimage 
Are dreaming in the loamy cage 

Of the dread all-judging day. 

" The rudest bosom e'er that saw 

Thee, sipped of paradise ; 
It could not know a wintry law. 
For, radiant being! tliou couldst thaw 



THE I'lONEEK. 23 

All arctic zone of ice. 
The empty breast, tlioiigli frozen hard, 

A sohd, stony, mass, 
In thy bright presence lost its guard 
And mellowed to a minstrel's card, 
Became at once an amorous bard 

Reflected in thy glass. 

" I know that thou, like most I knew, 

Hast faded from the eye 
Below time's blank liorizon blue, 
And thou art lost to human yiew 

Adown the hollow sky. 
To-day the worm himself l)eguiles, 

With many a loathsome freak. 
O'er dozens of his insect miles, 
Outleads, perchance, his untrained files 
Where once thy superhuman smiles 

Sat rocking in thy cheek. 

" It is not so. 1 can not think 

Thy soul, so pure and deep, 
Such draught of gall should eyer drink, 
Or that thy limpid eyes could shrink 

To such a lifeless sleep. 
Ah ! those rich eyes : like — nothing yet 

That eyer beamed below, — 
Two diamonds in a coronet. 



24 TPIE PIONEER. 

Two stars that in thy face had met. 
Two crystal globes of azure set 
In an oval flake of snow. 

" When slnmljer's mystic cliloroform 

Benumbs those ancient limbs ; — 
For, sometimes still, sleep locks her arm 
Around my l)rain, and, with a storm 

Of untranslated hymns, 
She quenches in the silent night 

The agonies of day — 
Then, then, again I feel the light 
That oft unnerved me, fill my sigiit. 
And wake to watch the phantom white 

That steals my soul away. 

" Some charm of time has skimmed the cream 

From exultation's milk, 
Screwed silver fetters on joy's stream, 
And robbed the gaudy maiden dream 

Of all her fields of silk. 
The mirthful, rich, canary, hour 

That cheered its cliildhood cage 
Has lost its merry-making power ; 
Cold, ecjuinoctial, vapors lower. 
E'en pleasure's juices have grown sour, 

Through my lone pilgrimage. 



THE rioNKEK. 25 

" Oh ! that I could once more recall 

The meditative hours 
That 1 have spent upon thee, all 
\\"<)uld train a formidal)le wall 

'(Jainst dissolution's powers: 
Could I but gather up the days 

I wasted in a dream, 
Since l)eing shed its crescent rays, 
Since life's to-day was Monday, Mays 
^Vnd fetes in tides would soon upraise 

To swell its empty stream. 

"Could T hut dam the falls of thought 

That s})urn my weak control. 
Could fancy, to subjection brought. 
Enchain the current sorrow-fraught 

Which bubl)lcs o'er my soul. 
Then calmness might enthrone once more 

Her sovereign on my Ijrow, 
And she, the lady I adore, 
Sleep peaceful as she slept of yore. 
Evanished wishes ! high ashore 

Ye warp in silence now. 

" A bald existence 1 have felt 

A blank, sublunar, lot ; 
High comfort's sun could never melt 
The iron shell, or icv belt 



26 THK PJONKKH. 

That diingeoiK'd in my cot. 
No summer beam can tluiw the snow 

Eml)anke(l within l)i'east, 
Xo venturoLi.s buttercup may grow 
From the cold soil that lies l)elow, 
Nor auglit relume the frayed trousseau 

That once my senses dressed. 

" Bright resolutious have been spun 

In nature to aljsorb 
One blossom from my faith undone. 
Iiuitile all ; another one 

Will decorate my orb 
Of earthly turmoil nevermore 

A\'hile the roots of life remain ; 
There's no elixir for the sore 
Of discontent and all the eoq)s 
Of kin<h'ed ills which storm the door 

For entrance to my brain. 

"There is no phcjenix to arise 
From the dust of my dead ho})e, 

No spectacles can tit my eyes 

To see again those dainty flies 
My youth's sharp microscope 

Developed tliick in the sweet air 
And warm meridian 

Of unsuspecting boyhood, wliere 



THE PIONEER. 27 

My fancy reaped a cloudless glare, 
Ere the unsullied culm of care 
Had yellowed into man. 

" No magic can return tlie wings 

That once my vision wore. 
New Dredalus at Iceland's springs, 
I melted off the waxen things 

That tem|)ted me to soar." 
The old man roused his strength to gird 

Reflection into rest ; 
He ceased and not a passion stirred 
Within him ; like a wounded bird. 
The dreamer's palsied plaint was heard 

In the forest of the west. 

They moored them on an unknown strand, 

A group of daring men ; 
Along the pine-producing sand 
Tliey traveled o'er an untamed land 

Through forest, glade, and glen. 
The portly, aqueous, granite side 

AVet with the white wave's spray. 
Shut in the grass and out the tide. 
Whilst admiration occupied 
Each bosom, as the strangers eyed 

The wildness of the wav. 



28 THE PKINEER. 

" What undeciphered land is this 

In science' scales nnweighed, 
Still chiming in its virgin bliss, 
Whose sacred cheek no Jndas-kiss 

To insult e'er betrayed, 
A\'hose unit heart intensified 

Is filled with many souls, 
Across whose valleys' fragrant pride 
Where singing fishes sportive glide 
Through forest surges, dense and wide. 

A green Atlantic rolls? 

"What vast leviathan, aflir 

In this undiscovered sea, 
So long should sleep a shaded star, 
The still unl)loody Trafalgar 

( )f history to l;)e ? 
Have wars, and storms, and plagues, occured 

'Mong pestilential knaves ; 
Have kingdoms moiled and empires erred. 
Nor all the broils crude eartli hath heard 
Availed to rouse the glorious bird 

From his nest of rocks and waves ? 

"Have warriors borne in every land 

The saber and the shield 
O'er civil vale and slothful sand, 
And never chieftain filed his band 



THE PIONKER. 29 

Along the martial tiekl ? 
Have a million sages grown and gone 

Since Adam's fable Inrtli, 
Nor all the centuries furnished one 
From Lazarus to Croesus, on 
^\dlose form sits wisdom's cloak to throne 

This princess of the earth ? 

" Have savage bear and wolverine 

Prowled in those passes wild, 
Have suns and moons been bright unseen, 
Where nature still delays to wean 

The full-grown mammoth child? 
Where oak, and elm, and beech, have grown 

Unschooled Ijy hands of toil, 
AVhere Ctesar might carve out a throne 
From diamond quarries yet unknown, 
AVliy is it tliat the wolf alone 

Is ca])tain of tlie soil? 

•' Where beauty, like a meadow, l)looms 

Along her solemn face ; 
fjike tenantless and somber toml)s, 
Why is it that those deep-lunged glooms 

Are void of human grace ? 
The cedar roots within the ground 

And wears a stylisli rind ; 
AVhere vast diversities abound, 



30 THE PIOXKKK. 

Wliy is no blood-veined timber fonnd, 
No bark of clay that doth snrronnd 
The maple of tlio mind ? 

" From dreams that haunted us of old 

On the canceled side of time, 
Though magnified a thousand fold, 
And from the tale our fathers told 

In story and in rhyme. 
We had not learned that far beyond, 

And fencing ocean l)ack, 
Was shelyed a yolume all unconncd, 
Was domiciled a siren l)londe 
To cheer yon sun with ghnices fond 

(^n his cyening's hectic track. 

" We did not dream this place of resi 

So broad and peaceful lay, 
Tliat the green pillow of the west 
AVas that whose silken kindness pressed 

The cold dead cheek of day. 
Here 'mong the reeds let us rei)osc ; 

Here, 'mid these woodlands cast, 
Let us o'erlook our distant foes, 
S])eak of our friends and all our throes, 
In i^rideful contemplation close 

( )f the dangers we haye ])assed " 



THE I'lOXEER. 31 

There is a lonely woman dwells 

Anear the Arctic pole. 
Forever to herself she tells 
Of some strange memory that upwells 

From the strata of her soul. 
Far otf in frosty Iceland where 

Tlie snow-l)ergs choke the seas, 
Where the Aurora candles glare 
In mockery of the hlackened air, 
\Mien winter's icy teeth are hare, 

She sips life's acid lees. 

For her forenoon of time is gone 

To its graveyard in the east ; 
Her heart, could we but see't, is \\an. 
Buried in snows her grief put on 

Since girlliood's April feast. 
Those furrows in her features need 

No glossarv which saith 
'' Her race will soon relax its speed," 
And those white hairs, all sparse indeed. 
Are hut the blossoms of a seed 

That ripens into death. 

"1 looked upon the stars last night," 

Soliloquized the dame ; 
"My years are growing frail and white 
And vet those beads beam out as brigiit. 



THK IIOXKKI;. 

Bum witli ;!s full ;i liarui-, 
As wlieu au iufaul uulicguik'd 

I gazed on each s\\'eet face 
That turned away from Heaven and smiled 
In kindness on a lonely child. 
As simple and as ur.defiled 

As their em])yival race. 

*'My life has had its hidden thorns. 

Its noondays and its shades. 
Its dewy eves and fragrant morns. 
And- disappointment's ragged horns 

Have loomed ahove its glades. 
It hath full furnished many a nest 

AN'itli eggs of gilded glass, 
Hath prized what falsely seemed the l)est, 
Unmindful long of all the rest. 
And many an unwelcome guest 

That nestled in its grass. 

" My hreast has oft heen full of snow 

In the sultry hours of June. 
And, sometimes, did the roses grow 
AMien hleak Decemlier's gust would lilow 

Their foliage to prune. 
AVhat often seemed a sum])tuous hill 

Proved hut a ti'ivial slojie, 
And contradictions grew, until 



THK PIONEER. 33 

Tliev dulled my sense and clogged niv will, 
Though still was ground in fancy's niill 
The painted flour of hope. 

" This almost boundless })lain of earth 

Has oftentimes been green, 
Has often worn this wintry dearth 
Of vapory ice to mock the mirtli 

Of summer's gaudy sheen ; 
Yet each new year its garbs ap})ear 

As new as e'er before. 
And that same freshness kindles liere 
Which moons agone I held so dear; 
Why comes no youth again to clieer 

The blitheness once I wore ? 

" My maidenhood was e'en as briglit 

As any of my kind, 
My heart soared upward, like a kite, 
And pleasures rare did frequent light 

Their stars along my mind. 
T wonder do all people feeb 

AMien early Ijlooms decay, 
80 little of that curbless zeal 
Which rocked their youth on many a wheel, 
As r have felt so long congeal 

Witliin this sliell of clav? 



34 THE I'lOXKEK. 

" Tliere was a jjoint where no degree 

Of sorrow tinged my sky, 
No seraplr could excel my glee, 
Nor the unharnessed reindeer be 

More jubilant tlian I ; 
There was no s])ot or stain of care 

I^pon my l>riglit brow then, 
l>ut it was Sunday everywhere, 
And all the circumambient air, 
An azure pyramid of ])rayer 

That floated over men. 

" I was as yet a leafless girl 

In the somber grove of life ; 
1 had not felt my young lio])es curl, 
And cris]). and shrink, bt'fore the whirl 

( )f its malicious strife ; 
Ikit womanhood stood at my door, 

My maiden days had ])assed 
My childhood's launeh, its journeys o'er. 
\\^is mooring on a sterner slioiw 
Tntil I saw around me soar 

My ills in flocks at last. 

" Why do I still in memory dream 

Of a long al)sented form, 
Still troll along dece])tion's .stream. 
Oi' Idl\' seek a liuovant tluMue 



THE PIONEER. OO 

In the warfore of the storm ? 
My days are but a crust of l3read, 

And I am but a slave, 
Still my wild muse is sometimes wed 
To all that rapture once she shed, 
Despite these gray weeds on my head 

That drag me to the grave. 

"'Tis true that he was gentle, kind. 

And tender, as the dove ; 
Refinement, grace, and thought, combined 
To decorate and fit his mind 

For superhuman love ; 
And all the powers he could control 

My pleasure might employ ; 
For me his warm devotion stole 
Nectarean quaffs from many a l;)Owl, 
The every effort of his soul 

8et canvas on my joy. 

" But he is not beside me now ; 

Like mist he rose away : 
My last repulse of his last \o^x 
Stood, like a midnight, on his brow ; 

A sting v^'dH in that nay 
That penetrated cold and deep 

The life-chords of my breast, 
x\nd my poor victim is asleep 



36 THE PIONEER. 

AMiere sighs and cares can never cree]) ; 
It would nncell my lieart to weep 
Its ruincloud o'er his rest. 



"To talk of Heaven thev did not need 

When my adored was near; 
I woidd not change my l)liss, indeed, 
For })aradise's rarest seed 

( )t' rapture, peace, and cheer. 
The icefield was a tlower-hed whei'e 

Were shamed the gems of May ; 
When my devoted halm was there. 
He stri})ped the frost stings from the air, 
Converted the hlack tieece of eare 

To season white as day. 

'• A thorn grew up in the }iath we trod 

'lliat choked the hloom of love ; 
l^nlike its clan, it l;ore a pod. 
And, when 1 saw't, I thought of (lod 

In the Tuilleries ahove. 
Around my heart a net was set, 

Around my soul a cloud ; 
I slowly schooled me to forget 
Tlie huxomest I ever met, 
And all that blessed and pleased me yet 

Was nuifHed in a shroud. 



THE I'lOXEER. 

" A star arose, as he went down, 

In the evening of my yontli ; 
The love-glance, robed in virtne's gown, 
A\^as fossilized a frozen frown 

In the countenance of truth : 
Another stood where he had stood 

'Neatli the foliage of my heart, 
Secured the word he never could, 
And triumphed where his rival should, 
(yertrami)led on the kind and good 

That l)lanched l)efore his art. 

" The second proved as fond and fair 

In my opinion then ; 
1 choose him with a timid care, 
The nuptial bough that I should wear 

To th' wormdiome ark of men. 
My spouse is gone where I shall go 

Regretless pretty soon ; 
For time will melt all human snow : 
I have known what I care to know. 
And now my life-globe settles low 

Adown the afternoon. 

" But there's one hall within my breast 

Where none have ever been, 
Except that unbefriended guest 
Whosejnemory still builds up a nest 



37 



38 THK I'lOXKEK. 

And dances out and in 
Along the eves of my vague soul, 

Now creaking in the blast ; 
I hear a low, incessant, roll 
As if of angry waters, troll 
Its foamy music to the goal 

(_)f something long gone past. 

" I need not angle for its cause, 

Since 1 have known it well ; 
Tliere is a diamond in the laws 
Of early love that over awes 

The purest after spell. 
'Twas love that reigned, — ah ! could I seek 

Tliat gauz}- prize once more, — 
But I was vain as I am weak, 
.Vnd now it needs not that I speak 
AMiat age hath etched along my cheek 

Of foggy fancies o'er. 

" A vessel in yon harbor lies 

Shaking her canvas wings. 
And l)racing up with new sup})lies 
Of flaxen muscles for such skies 

As snap the stiffest strings. 
They tell me she is destined far, 

An obscure shore to seek ; 
I am resolved to court the star 



TJIK I'lOXEKH. 39 

Ol cluuR'C', to ^till, if't may, tliis jar 
Within my heart, or chaso the sear 
Of sorrow h'om my eheek." 

And so slie lodged within the ship 

To leap across the sea, 
To fly oblivion from tlie ti}) 
Of fate's strange vessel, and to ehij) 

The past's ungracious tree. 
A few weeks, borne on ocean's Ijack 

O'er the fish-filled billow cave 
In a wooden saddle tVirough the l)lack, 
Unfriendly, breast of night's lone track 
Or seething tempest, and they tack 

Beyond the traitorous wave. 

Home h'iends were there with her to search 

The new-coined western world. 
If any novelty might perch 
Upon tlie croivn of grave or church 

In the gilt of ])eace impearled ; 
And some they found who had Ijefore 

To the wilds of Hossamess 
Good by'd the lacile. Runic, shore, 
Joy-clustered ; here and there was store 
Of wierd romance and ghastly lore 

To thrill, to rouse, and bless. 



40 THE PIONEER. 

They told them of new men, new modes, 

111 this left hand side of earth, 
New systems, wars, and tribes, and eodes, 
And new found gods whose sky aljodes 

Were hewn of wrath, or mirth. 
To mate the builder's thought ; as some 

Hinee then in Ijrighter times 
Have quarried out new creeds to come ; 
And some laughed loud, and some sat dumb, 
And some were fluttering in tlie hum 

Of sunflower childhood's climes. 

" Yes, lady, there's an aged man 

Among these warlike triljes. 
He is not of the sallow tan 
That designates their bronzy clan 

And calumny describes. 
In Eastern land this bard was born, — 

For once he knitted song, — 
He missed the sunshine in the morn 
Beyond his manhood, and the corn 
Alone of sadness now is shorn 

The harvest of his wrong. 

" I know fi dl well his shrewd retreat, 

I often seek the spot, 
And I am sad whene'er I meet 
The Balbec of that proud conceit 



THE PIONEER. 41 

AVhich clouded all his lot. 
This victim of some fatal charm 

That mystified his life, 
That mixed his blood, once swift and warm, 
With the frozen sloth of Greenland's storm 
And gashed his unresisting form 

With an ever piercing knife." 

" Would it be well, think you, should I," 

The woman meek inquired, 
" Approach this old man's home? How high 
'Twould swell my pulse to linger by 

This prison self-inspired ! 
Some powerful liand has been at toil 

On the crystal of his youth. 
Some agent forged a fearful moil, 
T' upheave such rocks through his soul's soil, 
To spot the brilliant silver foil 

On the rigid Ijust of truth." 

" 'Tis not unmeet and we will go 

To seek the exile's cells. 
Fair lady, see those willows blow ; ■ 
Let us observe how green they grow, 

For there the lone one dwells. 
Here is the haunt of one to whom 

Not many often come. 
Who little recks the fragrant bloom 



42 THE PIONEER. 

That decorates the winter's tomb, 
Who wraps himself in clouds of gloom 
And sits forever dumb. 



" This is the door and we will knock 

To see if he be here ; — 
The heavens doth constitute his clock, 
Excepting when the clouds do mock 

The hermit's limpid tear. 
Hark ! He responds." " Good-morrow, friend, 

How tind'st thou thee to-day ? " 
" But poorly, sir." " Alas, I bend 
In giief that illness should descend 
Upon the palsied brow : but mend 

We ever dare and ma}'. 

" A stranger comes with me to ask 

If thou art hale this morn ; 
It must be long since thou didst bask 
In any trapping, save the mask 

Of solitude forlorn. 
This lady comes from o'er the sea, 

She heard of thy rude cell, 
And, wishing much to visit thee. 
This morning wanders out with me. 
Lo ! reverend mourner, this is she, 

Fain here awhile to dwell." 



THE pionp:er. 43 

"Come in, kind stranger, thoiigli I fear 

So cold a hearth as mine 
€an guarantee but trivial cheer ; 
Still here through, many a tedious year 

I have watched my life deeliue. 
Come in, fair wanderer. This rude home 

Is all I can bestow ; 
Yet art thou welcome to the dome 
Of this lone habitation ; tome 
Or record of the land we roam 

My mantle does not know. 

" Thou art a woman ? Many days 

Have crawled across my l^row. 
Since last I knew a woman's praise. 
And little prophesied to gaze 

Upon a lady now. 
It sorrows me that my frail eyes 

Are so benumbed by age 
That I can not observe the prize 
The heavens have sent me. Oh, there lies 
In thy fair face, I deem, a guise 

Beyond my power to gauge. 

" Sit on this stool, my gracious guest ; 

I framed it long ago 
From those rough timbers of the west, 
When hopes, once white within my breast, 



44 THE PIONEER. 

Began to .shed the blow. 
I .shall be glad, if thou partake 

(3f all my lowly cheer : 
Thou must be weary. Thou dost wake ? 
Then share a rest I would not break, 
If only for that woman's sake 

Whom once I dreamed .so dear. 

" Lady, a human footstep comes 

But seldom through these woods ; 
Alone I hear the partridge drums. 
Alone I pick the ripening plums 

That paint these .solitudes. 
Thou must be far from thy own land, 

In realms as wild as this. 
What lured to this romantic strand 
The lace work of .so rich a brand ? 
Why is it that thy bosom spanned 

The ocean's dread abyss ? 

" So many maidless wings of space 
Have swept above my soul. 

It almost seemed that woman's face 

Was but a myth, without a place 
On earth from pole to pole. 

Meek stranger, could thy ftmcy guess 
That one forgot so soon 

The all in life can trulv bless? 



THE PIONEER. 45 

Believe me well, sweet lady. Yes, 
I would as lief reach to caress 
The bosom of the moon, 

" But thy fond i)resence rol^s me now 

Of a thorn that scratched my mind. 
Drapes my dry brain with many a liough, 
And burns my memory with a vow 

A woman once declined. 
" Perhaps thou thirsteth ; drink this draught 

From thy discourteous host. 
It has no philter, save the craft [ed 

It learned from flower-t owned meads, and laugh- 
To waft along its bubbly raft 

To the hungry ocean's coast. 

'' In all the pomp of this proud world 

I shared to some degree ; 
But far, far, far, the dream I whirled. 
And this stone cup so roughly curled 

Is grandeur meet for me. 
Drink, therefore, welcome lady. Mine 

No Spartan spirit knows. 
See what a cool, transparent, shine, 
Is settled in this fluid sign 
Of purity, for 'tis the wine 

That Heaven itself bestows. 



46 THE PIONEER. 

" Not always was this form as bent 

And toppling as 'tis now ; 
Bnt I have known a swift descent, 
And time has pitched his ridgy tent 

(3n the prairie of my brow. 
'Tis well, nor would I dare complain 

(3f my Creator's gift, 
Although it be a lake of pain ; 
Howe'er Ave lose, we somehow gain, 
And there's a balm in every bane 

Through all its bitter tlirift. 

"Here's some refreshment; 'twill, mayhap, 

kSeem very poor to thee ; 
And yet, last autumn, many a tap 
Drained the pale flowers, when this sweet sap 

Was plundered l^y the bee. 
'Tis very long — extremely long — 

Since I left my early home : 
These little birds are full of song. 
And very kind to me ; they throng 
My parks ; and time can forge no wrong 

Where they are free to roam. 

" Do my companions gatlier yet 

In my ancestral halls? 
Ah ! if there lives as darkly set 
As their young friend's, then small regret 



THE PIONEER. 47 

Hangs round those silent walls. 
Attentive gaze on this deep sky : 

How sacred, soft, and pure ; 
For me to-day it bends as high 
As my most boasted hope can fly 
And can e'en now as well supply 

All youth had lent to lure. 

" I happy am, and I am sad. 

In each revolving hour ; 
One moment grieved, one moment glad, 
And every instant motley clad 

By some unfathomed power. 
My life was one huge error; — all 

A cheerless, windy, day, — 
Save one sole nook, so bleak, so small, 
In youth's blue east, I scarce can call 
It back to memory ; there's a pall 

On all my after way. 

" T know thou thinkest I am rude — 

Have been since I began — 
That thus on thee my thoughts intrude. 
But fifty years of solitude 

Will warp a hardy man. 
Couldst thou but see me when the bloom 

Hung on my vernal years. 
Thou wouldst confess that I have room 



48 THE PIONEER. 

For aljerration, and tlie doom 
I bear is one whose fertile womb 
Yields progeny of tears. 

" I have Ijeen talking without stop 

Against my guest's regards ; 
And much I fear, I overtop 
The bourne of courtesy to prop 

My life's decaying cords : 
But such a swarm of hours have flown 

Above my dizzy head, 
So many weeds of grief have grown 
Along my soul's torn edges, prone 
Am I to think, repent, and moan, 

For the fragrance lost and dead. 

" I now almost forget, indeed, 

Civility herself; 
For I have had but little need 
To cultivate her tickle creed. 

On some forgotten shelf 
I left my manners once asleep 

In this broad wilderness. 
The wolf, ere now, has come to keej) 
His feast around their fossils : deep 
In one whose province is to weep 

The folly they express. 



THE PIONEER. 49 

" Perhaps, thou cam'st from Iceland where 

The fates record my birth. 
Oh ! are there any Hving there 
Could once adorn with spendthrift care 

The desert of the earth ? 
If, lady, I appear uncouth 

In aught I hint to thee, 
Consider that the fires of youth 
In me are embers ; and, in sooth, 
A woman's faith, a woman's truth, 

Are toys too tame for me. 

" There was a day, and wert thou she 

Who wrought this wTeck of mine. 
No eulogy complete would be 
Profanely that depictured thee 

Less than a gem divine : 
And though she thought it fit to slight 

A bosom too sincere, 
And this torn spirit treasures bright 
The only star that lights iis night. 
And never more may check the fliglit 

Of an everlasting tear. 

" She did not know how deep the love 

I bore for her too long ; 
All visions else drooped dead above 
The snow of my angelic dove 



50 THE PIONEER. 

And melted like a song. 
Yet, lady, she way kind and meek 

To her ill-fated boy. 
Her lips have kissed this withered cheek, 
Although by some relentless freak 
She left at last my bosom bleak 

And rooted up my joy. 

" Could I induce thee to believe 

Attection wild as mine 
No consolation can receive. 
When once it leaves a sky to grieve 

That never more shall shine ? 
It is, alas, a truth too true ; 

Home natures may not feel 
The heart-ache, sealed in love's adieu, 
But, trust me, they are coarse, and sue 
For no adorers from the few 

Whose souls are staunch as steel. 

" Not many know, no more shall know, 

My blasted spirit's power ; 
Yet 'twas a soil wherein miglit grow 
With I'ich variety of blow 

Full many a glorious flower. 
Love is the helm of thousands o'er 

A heaven reflecting sea ; 
Love is the pharos 'long the shore. 



THE PIONEER. 51 

Love is the kind heart's yellow ore, 
Love is the wing by which we soar, — 
Ah, would 'twere so with me ! 

" Fair stranger, didst thou ever meet 

In thy frost-bespangled home. 
With chaste Thurida's spirit sweet, 
Pure as yon ocean's azure sheet, 

Or alabaster foam ? " 
" I think, de^r, aged, anchroite, 

That I have seen the maid. 
'Tis sad that one eternal blight 
Hath gathered round her heart rose white ; 
Her life, like thine 's, a moonless night. 

And she a pining shade. . 

" Thou solitary man ! can aught 

To comfort thee be done ? 
I'm sure Thurida's every thought 
Would bless thee and her wish be taught 

Fulfillment through her son. 
Far, far away, her own kind child — 

Her only treasure now — 
To deem his mother reconciled. 
Will thread his course in this bleak wild. 
And kindle peace where once it smiled 

In winrows on thv brow." 



62 



THE PIONEER. 

Why, reader, as the woman spoke, 

Need she so deeply sigh ? 
AVhat weakness did she seek to cloak ? 
A\'hy did the big tears rise to choke 

The brightness of her eye ? 
What secret coiled in that despair 

Her pride refused to c|uell ? 
Why gazed she with that trembling stare, 
As if strange ghosts rained down the air ? 
It was Thurida's self was there 

In that sorrow-haunted cell. 

" No, lady, there is nothing now," 

The white-haired hermit said, 
" Except this somber cypress bough 
That aptly grows witliin my brow ; 

For all my soul is dead. 
Here is a little humble ring 

That once Thurida wore. 
Ah ! I have prized this gilded thing ; 
Tell her its magic lost its wing, 
Tell her the fawn of love's bright spring 

Shall vex her nevermore. 

" Here is a sword I send her son ; — 

May he live to wear it long, — 
And take this circlet home from one 
Whose act of life is nearly done 



THE PIONEER. 53 

To her who wrought his wrong. 
Still, may the heavens protect her rest 

Where ever she repose ; 
May floral joys fill high her breast, — 
Beside her heart was mine once blessed. 
In my new manhood's fiery zest 

That found so dark a close." 

" Farewell, poor bard. Now must we go." 

She dared no more to speak ; 
The fiame of love was flickering low. 
And in its last impulsive glow, 

She kissed his chilly cheek. 
Ages have flown ; Time's tippling hand 

Has emptied many a year ; 
Columbia ^\-rought what freedom planned, 
And cities blossomed round the land ; 
Has she produced more sad or grand 

Than the blind old pioneer ? 



IRENA'S LESSON. 

Morn, like a princess at a feast, 
Sits smiling in the bounteous east. 
And from her broad ancestral hall, 
Flings out her leers of love to all : 
Or, like a priest in rosy robes, 
Rich shepherd of a thousand globes, 
Who kneels awhile to praise and praj^ 
Along the altar steps of day, 
And pave the paths our fathers trod 
M'^ith passports to the court of God. 

Strange specters creep along the skies 
And softly shut those shining eyes 
That all night long have twinkled down 
O'er dreamy vale and silent town. 
The lion sun with princely air 
Leaps proudly up from his black lair 
And flings the light-flakes round the plain, 



irena's lesson. 55 

Like dew dro])S, from his purple main : 
The httle, spotted, heavenly deer 
Desert their pastimes far and near, 
And all the hordes above accord 
Obeisance to their yellow loi'd. 

It is a three-fold holy scene, 
The night's pale corpse, the virgin green, 
On valley, field, and mountain, shed. 
An emerald shroud o'er her still head. 
And those light reeds that pipe and play 
To wait the night and hail the day. 

See all around, below, above, 

One universal wreath of love 

Envelop in a golden shroud 

The happy, false, and pure, and proud ; 

All forms of flesh and fruits of clay 

That hang along the boughs of day. 

Where'er the eyes of thought may glance 

The knight of love doth couch his lance : 

Each bent to each, and face to face, 

All life is locked in love's embrace ; 

The cloud that skims the mountain copse 

Delays to kiss its tempting tops ; 

The rock with a fond parent's joy 

Fails not to kiss its fountain boy 

That in his wild, unbridled, glee 



56 irp:na's lesson. 

Sings on his father's flinty knee ; 
The honest bee to court his lass 
Is buzzing love songs in the grass ; 
The tree is amorous, like the dove 
That fondles in its boughs above ; 
His leaf-gloved fingers fall and rise 
Along the blue breast of the skies : 
To charm the siren of his heart, 
The ivinged gallant exhausts his art, 
And, while she feigns coquette with him, 
Pursues her on from limb to limb, 
His lips with foam-wreaths bearded o'er, 
The wave steals up to kiss the shore : 
The rapturous rose leans down to kiss, 
In phrensied ecstasy of bliss, 
And cheek to clieek, the daisy bride 
That blushes blossoms at his side. 

But turn we from the blade, the leaf, 
The valley gem, the forest chief. 
The sky, the stream, the mead, the air, 
And all the webs that spangle there ; 
Deflect we from the baser charms 
To hope's fascines and love's alarms. 
Observing thi'ough the shine and shade 
The frontispiece of man and maid. 
Hark, some one speaking, cautious, low ; 
Now ripe and full their voices grow. 



I HEX A S LESSON. O/ 

Like thunder womljed witlnn the blast, 
But searching, keen, and loud, at last; 
Or seeds that first obey the Ijreeze 
And then grow up to stubborn trees 
Whose towering columns' branchy ends 
The Samson tempest scarcely bends. 
Let us ensconce ourselves behind 
This bole of oak, and seek to find 
Why is it? pride? or peace? or fear? 
These people come to gossip here? 

" Irena, oft in solitude 
At midnight's grave 1 sit and brood : 
In such weird hour with visions wild, 
Like some too far-presuming child, 
I sometimes think through those clay bars 
I could peep out and count the stars, 
Descril)e those laioys on nature's sea, — 
But not the wealth that shines in thee. 
To paint, thou flower of all the earth, 
The dimmest fraction of thy worth, 
Fair Lidia ! never have I thought 
In all I fancied, hoped, or sought." 

" xVlmost this fervent praise of thine 
Doth make me deem myself divine. 
Methinks, I could allure a tear 
Of joy to trust thou wert sincere." 



58 ikena's lesson. 

" Fear that the needle's iron soul 
Will wander from his lady pole, 
A\'rll slight the path his maiden strays 
For some poor arc of greener days, 
And then distrust the magnet power. 
To which I tremhle, Cjuail, and cower." 

" But, Cyril, why wouldst tliou displace 
The pearly spots on candor's face ? 
I can not feel, I know not why. 
That thou wilt love me liy and by. 
Meseems, that, 'mong thy l)irds of sj^ring, 
I hear some harsh-tongued raven sing ; 
That from the branches of tliy strain, 
Doth sprout the buds of future pain. 
Ah ! tell me truly, will thy love 
Forever keep its flight above. 
In all the curves of its free range. 
The sharpened crags and peaks of change ? 
Are all those gems thou canst extol 
But dust and sand to stain my soul ? 
Delusion smooths, perchance, the glass 
Before whose face thou see'st me pass : 
Seen through these lenses of deceit, 
That worth thou swearest now complete 
May wear at last a fleasy dress, 
Condemn to dungeons thy success. 
And all this gilded, globous, wall 
May prove at last a hive of gall." 



ikena'h lesson. 59 

" Thou magic wand and potent wine 
Of all that I could fancy mine, 
Dost thou helieve yon sun will rise 
No more within the silvered skies ? 
Will some rude hand's barbarian force 
Arrest him in his dizzy course? 
Must this Prometheus share the shock, 
The curb, the vulture, and the rock ? 
Yet likelier much mayst thou opine 
His orange eye shall cease to shine 
Than that my soul could Ijrook to part 
The shekels of thy golden heart." 

'' But should I prove not what I seem, 

How weak a rock may dam love's stream. 

Methinks I hear vast waters fall 

Far in the ether's hollow hall. 

That in each sunbeam of thy praise 

Is planted seeds of stormy days. 

Knock at the door-sill of thy breast 

And catechise thy spirit, lest. 

Like down upon some thistle, blown 

To whiten gardens not its own. 

Those words thou rainest round me here 

May build a sigh, or sire a tear. 

Those flatt'ries that descend, like dew, 

To wash my spirit fresh and new, 

Ma}^ give some serpent power and art 



60 irena's lesson. 

To coil his folds around my heart ; 
Some phantom will entrance thee more 
With deeper mines and purer ore. 
Thy soul, I dread, will shift this scene; 
That thy affection, now so green, 
Will toss its hranches to the moon 
To mock the love that died so soon." 

" Fair, dear, Irena ! AVhat could be 
More heavenly pure or dear to me 
Below this breast of burnished gold 
Our eyes slant upwards to behold — 
Yon field where sleep the thunder's guns,. 
Yon woven sheet of stars and suns. 
Beneath those orchards of the skies — 
Than where thou art thyself the prize ; 
Than those bright smiles of gilded grace 
That hang in clusters round thy face ; 
Than those two orbs that roll and shine 
Below thy Ijrow to beam on mine. 
To strew my soul and fleck my way 
AVith roses from the cheeks of May ; 
Than that weird tongue when thou art near 
That lures me to a happier sphere ; 
That steals the senses from my brain 
And yields them back refined again. 
To drift my hopes and all their powers 
With feathery banks of gems and flowers ? " 



ikena's lesson. 61 

" Soft, Cyril, soft ! Do I forget 
The gloss of love's bright alphabet ? 
' How many a man these centuries long 
Have etched thy speech and tuned thy song ; — 
To haven in some quiet shore, 
Have chirped thy lessons o'er and o'er. 
But, when in port arrived at last 
And anchored from tlie fiendish l)last, 
How oft unmanned is left tlie Imrge 
Along the waves to plunge at large, 
Its beauties painted pale and gray 
By rude neglect and slow decay ; 
Its hawsers wasted one by one, 
Its rudder, mast, and streamer, gone. 
I would thou didst not know so well 
The Ijitter truth that all mUst tell. 
Observe those hulls whose blackened forms 
Are frowzy food for seas and storms, — 
Once proud as I am, and as prime, 
Now stranded on the Ijeach of time." 

" Sometimes, Irena, and the soul 
Doth not unfold a faithful scroll. 
And (^ft while e'en we feel its spell 
Fine language proves a hollow shell. 
The tower whose base we build too small, 
More feeble, as it grows more tall, 
Unskilled to totter or to 1 )end 



62 ikena's oxson. 

Must meet some day a lowly end. 
No blast may fret or storm destroy 
The marble walls of snowy joy, 
The glorious spire that looms above 
The spacious base of candid love, 
And surely thou canst not believe 
That I adore thee to decieve ? 
j\Iy heart is but a pebble strayed 
In that deep channel thou hast made, 
O'er which thou pour'st at each caress 
The foamy streams of happiness, 
Transparent as a. mistless sky 
When all may l)ask in God's bright eye. 
The dim new moon of thy chaste kiss 
(lives rise to such full tides of bliss 
As drowns upon its iron throne 
Each icy ill my life has known." 

" 'Twould please me more those fields among, 
Didst thou but bridle in thy tongue ; 
He gallops at too mad a pace. 
Too wliite a haste to win his race." 

'' Ah ! could I trim that tongue a steed 
Invested with transcendent speed. 
And, did he stretch an entire year 
AVith all the fleetness of the deer, 



irexa's lesson. 63 

How far at last from thy wild skill 
His drowsy fiigbt would leave me still." 

" I know thou wouldst not thus annoy, 

Thus thrust a lance through my frail joy, 

Thus overturn my liquid dream, 

Or jolt my fancy, couldst thou deem 

It is not altogether kind 

So to besiege a tranquil mind. 

As by thy lips to know thee near, 

I would as lief be lonely here ; 

I feel the air about me sweet. 

As if rich flowers were round my feet : 

I can not see the pleasure's cause 

Through all thy flatt'ry's hazy gauze. 

Fain would I hear the random note 

That fills the siren's dulcet throat. 

I can not hear the merry birds 

Through all these walls of oily words." 

" Woul<l thy cold heart were full of lyres, 
Of dreams, and bees, and crackling fires ; 
Of bloodless hope, and puffed despair. 
Like this vexed thing which I must wear. 
Thou must indeed be cruel, who 
Wouldst urge a granite arrow through 
The little springs that still control 
The tender clock-work of mv soul. 



64 ir.KXA's r.Essox. 

A\^itliin my liosoiii what i\ cloud 
I:^ ."^liutting- out the sun I vowed 
Should nevermore unviq-ored shine 
On this chaste bliss of mine and thine." 

" Then roll away this fogg}' fence 

With some faint Ijreeze of thought and sense, 

Some Ijroom to Ijright thy reason's sheen 

And sweep its tiag-stones smooth and clean. 

Thou wingless moth, why dost tliou stare 

Full on the candle's per'lous glare, 

Long for a }irize l:eyond thy claim 

And plunge r.mcng its tongues of flame?" 

" Ah ! wilt thou still make grief my guest, 
Still leave those millstones in my breast 
Of croaking doubt and fanged distrust 
That grind my ho})es to smoke and dust? 
VChx wilt thou make my desert state 
So 1.)arren, l)leak, and desolate, 
]\Iv pulses waltz so wild a tune, 
Crown winter on the throne of June, 
And lock that heart in frost and snow 
Wliere birds miglit sing and verdure grow?" 

" But, Cyril dear, it makes me sad 

To see whom once I loved, so mad. 

Fill up those seams ])etween thy thoughts 



ire::a'8 lesson. (i5 

With some rich engiiiefiil of naughts ; 
For cj^phers ranged in stahvart ranks 
Were choicer than those rusty blanks, 
Whose clam'rous voids of pithless s})eech 
AVhereby thou wouldst be taught, and teach. 
Dost thou suppose the grain of sense 
Received by me from Providence 
Has taken furlough for a space 
To visit in some distant place ? 
Mistaken man, go deal with fools 
Who talk and love l)y formal rules. 
Thou canst not palm thy empty tongue, 
Though thick with lieads of Hatt'ry hung, 
Enlabled round with zeal and youth. 
As 'twere a flagon filled with truth — 
Albeit it shine from candor's shelf — 
( )n e'en my unsuspecting self." 

" I little thought that gol )lin day, 
A\nien first thou mad'st my fancy gay. 
When love for thee in me was new, 
'Twould be at last a plant to rue ; 
Xor for my pains should yet be Ijorn 
This ineradicable tliorn 
Whose despot roots usur}) control 
Through all the subsoil of my soul. 
I knew not when I saw thee first 
The tempting viper tliat 1 nursed 



66 irena's lesson. 

In scanning thee, thou needle, knife, 
Tliou Ijlack echpse in my young life ; 
Nor dreamed to hear my earh^ knell 
Loud pealed l)y one I loved so well." 

" Thou zero whose sole worth and pride 

Is due to that it stands beside ! 

The worm thou grind'st Ijcneath thy heel 

Has more of love than thou canst feel. 

And, hear me ! I would gladlier wed 

The cold, unmonumented, dead 

Than know that thou hadst snared thy dove 

Within so tame a trap of love ; 

Some sleepy fly or straggling bee 

Enmeshed within so poor a plea. 

I would not pride me to decieve ; 

But, verily, I do believe ■ 

Despite of all thy tact and art, 

They cant and rant aljout thy heart, 

Beneath his silken, mossy frock 

A softer lies in yon black rock, 

That thy affection's pulsing cone 

Is flintier than yon bloodless stone. " 

" Irena, cease, no more, no more ! 
Good by, sweet peace, forever o'er. 
'Twas wrong to break within my house 
And make my heart thy helpless mouse,, 



ikkna's lesson. P)7 

Thy toy while anxious hours crawled past 

And crunch it in thy jaws at last : 

To weave that broad mirage of bliss 

And Cj[uench it in a flash like this. 

'Twas grimly, mercilessly, wrong 

To trail thy line for me so long, — 

Poor foolish fish that seized the ])ait 

To bleed upon the beard of fate. 

'Twas damnable at one fell stroke 

To rend in splinters that green oak 

Of warm affection, tliat broad tree 

Whose boughs were meant to shelter me. 

Say, when I slept in thy first tomb, 

Unresurrected from the womb. 

Ye friends who mark our rise and fall, 

Ye reptiles in yon hollow ball, 

AVho, like the past, the future see. 

Was this damned sting in store for me? 

Ye heavenly powers, let me control 

This earthquake bursting through my soul. 

There is no Heav'n for all is Hell. 

False garden-snake, farewell ! " 

" Farewell." 

And thus they parted ; one to wade 
Through curious ways herself had laid. 
And one to nurse the Ijitter smart 
That gnawed his soul and pinched his heart. 



"^iH ikexa's j,i<>s()X. 

II 

" AMiile through tlieir wandering Ijeds l)elow 

The thick'ning tidys of hie shah flow, 

As long as on tliis'sceptered slioal 

My dust is luishand to my soul, 

And while these palsied nerves shall twine 

Around those wrinkled Ijones of mine, 

'Till nature snaps my hrittle limbs 

Asunder, and my vision dims 

Forever on my creaking throne, 

Though 'mong my realms I stand alone, 

Tartarean dog shall never rule 

Thy domes and homes, sad Istamlioul." 

8ueh the Arm words that crept Ijetween 

The troubled lips of (bn.stantine. 

As, brooding o'er his own dark hate 

And madd'hing on the rock of fate. 

He raked his memor^^'s smoldering hres 

To exile with his famous sires 

The rugged ice-l)erg in his l)reast 

Of freezing grief — his drifting guest — 

To l)uild a shield of courage round 

The l)row, they said, was weakly crowned, 

To fence that glory from all sore ; 

His father long so nobly wore ; 

Within whose arbor every ^vmg 

Of feathered justice flew to sing. 



IK EX A 's LESSON. ()!)• 

Unheedful of the hostile blast 
'Till all its furious freaks were past ; 
To melt in drops the heathen claim, 
That no dishonor stain his name, 
And nerve his own fierce arm to save 
The warrior corse of pride a grave. 

The Moslem waits without the walls 

And illy brooks the taunting calls 

From out the town's emliattled Ijrow 

Those proud defenders fling him now. 

Impatient as the steed he reigns, 

To reap a recompense of pains 

He sowed for many an anxious year, 

Whose crimson harvest now was near. 

Where soon the scythe that mows the breath 

Should make in blood the hay of death. 

" Is this the storm," the sultan spoke, 
" That dints the rock and cracks the oak, 
Or is it but a school-boy's rage 
Fretting against his childhood cage, 
That thus I hover, like a fly. 
Around the glass of this thin sky 
Which, like a tombless soldier, lies 
Between me and my generous prize ? 
Is this the way my rude sires wore 
Their garbs of war on fields of yore ? 



70 IREXA's LESS()N. 

Are those who form my army's prime 

But leaves above the trunk of time 

Whose tender texture, nascent yet, 

The Ijeam may wiU- and winds may fret, — 

The vigorous hosts at my command 

One paltry momid of shifting sand, 

O'er which the christian billow rolls 

Annihilating their proud souls? — 

AVith every thought, and dream, and word, 

Yet ling'ring like a charmed bird 

Still tluttering round this princely snake, 

Nursing a spell that will not break. 

" Though troop by troop and line Ijy line 

They gather liere 'gainst me and mine, 

By Allah ! and by all cHvine ! 

By him who sleeps in Mecca's shrine ! 

This haughty porcupine shall feel 

Through all his shining quills of steel 

Yon uncompassionating moon 

Dance dirges o'er his ashes soon. 

The snarling wolf shall richly feed 

On Constantine and all his creed, 

And vultures drink the chaliced flood 

M}^ powers shall drain of tears and blood. 

' Farewell at last, thou long-famed town, 

And far-esteemed,' as he goes doivn 

Beyond the ploughed and blood-stained clay, 



IHEXa's LE8S0N. 71 

To-morrow's gibing sun shall say. 
Else may those hills that l^end around 
Confederate to pile the mound 
In which my fruitless veins shall sleep, 
Than Blanc's white peak is high, more deep, 
And kneel in scorn 'till they shall rust 
Their knotted knees above my dust. 
]\Iay every gem of valor set 
That lights the brow of Mahomet, 
The moss and ivy's gloomy freight, 
Drown deep the moss of glory's gate. 
And may the way to victory's door 
Be ever barred to Moslem more." 

Far o'er the skies in zealous speed 
And garbed in plumes of Koran creed, 
With one wing pride, and one wing care. 
Flew up to Heaven the sultan's prayer. 

Ah, Constantine ! thy brain must ache 
That thus thy slumbers surge and break. 
With thought enough to burst thy l3reast, 
There is no " Why dost thou not rest ? " 

" I will not sleep ; I can not seal 
My vision with this Avax of steel, 
Or those swift globulets of lead 
The sulphurous eyes of carnage shed 



72 ikena's lesson. 

Tliat ere to-morrow's sky-lamp set 

Shall drench the cheek of Mahomet, 

Now fleeced in hope's Ijright chandeliers 

AVith hideous stains and purple tears. 

My country's drooping daftbdil, 

All meek and weak, I love thee still. 

Oh ! is there hrilje in earth or hell 

To buy thee to the infidel, 

To chain my kingdom where no l)eam 

Of patriot pride may ever gleam, 

Or pluck those dainty gems of mine 

From off the breast on which they shine^, 

Tear out the roots that angle down 

The yellow sultsoil of my crown, 

And melt to streams that may not flow 

Its lustrous sheet of diamond snow ? 

Forbid it, Heaven ; forljid it, Earth ; 

Forbid it, peace, and truth, and worth ; 

Forbid it, field, and vale, and wood ; 

F'orljid it, all ye shades of good ; 

F'orbid it, ye unburied brave ; 

Forbid it, slumberers of the grave ! 

Yes, Destiny, if thou decree'st 
Such sacrament before the feast. 
Divorce my senses from my soul 
As far and cold as pole from pole ; 
Let me not live to share the shame 



irena's lesson. 73 

That spots my kingdom's writhing fame : 
Here on this stormy bosom's wall 
Let cone by cone the lead-flakes fall, 
And may, O God ! it seem Thee best 
To grant an old man's last request." 
Thus the christian chieftain's prayer 
Flowed up to Heaven through banks of air. 

" 'Tis now a w^ary season past 
Since I had word from Cyril last. 
I often think at curfew chime 
Of how we parted in the time 
AVhen that unmisted sun arose 
Which sired my many since-felt woes. 
ITnguarded words and cold indeed 
Occasioned why we disagreed. 
A thoughtless girl, from limb to limb 
I skipped aloft and toyed with him ; 
Above in my coquettish beech 
Preserved my perch beyond his reach, 
Until at last I cooed in vain, 
Forewent the goal I sought to gain, 
And smiled with unsuspicious eye 
While fate's wild wolf went prowling by. 

" I did not dream in that rash hour 
To cancel quite the siren power 
I proudly knew that I possessed 



74 iim;naV lksson. 

O'er oveiy thought honoath his hroast, 
Or let this juice of })ri(le iseape 
To tiiul mv heart so sour a grajK'. 
Ah. shallow, false, aiul uuilc. (.•a]>rice! 
Thou author of uiy soul's release 
l"^-oni silkeu ehaius that ouee it wore — 
lUu whieh I fear to wear nv more — 
From every honil and everv snare 
That 1 shall ever care to wear. 
Thou hast no othee save to vex 
TIk' needy soids of half our sex, 
Alluring us in our white tlays 
To wile, deceit, and frosty phrase, 
Condenuiing- all who worshij) thee 
To wither, each in hei- degree. 
And fi-oni her heart let slip the dove 
That ne'er reseeks her ark of love. 
But in some new-horn orove a euest. 
Selects a mate and frames a nest. 

'• Here, on my life's unmasted hoat. 
An unattractive waif 1 float. 
And, charndess on its harren ]>r(>w. 
Who is there left to love me now? 

" No matter. There are some more fair 
With deei>er sores of want and care. 
1 have no louiiiuii- to suniilv. 



IKKNA S I.KSSON. / !) 

But, like a hroidcrcMl luittcrtly. 

Forsake my t'hrv.silis of griel'. 

And bask niv \viii.cs from leaf to leaf. 

N.ot free as 1, this locust host 

That swarui in clouds around our t'oast. 

Those leeches ]>icked hoin Moslem uuid 

That eome to drain our kingdom's Mood. 

Not gay as 1, my own sick land 

With pink-eyed slaughter's hurning hrand 

Thrust, like a lighthou.^e through the storm, 

Against her gray and gasping form. 

" Oh, for a ])ro])het's voice and stall 
To grave my country's e]»ita])h ! 
Now, my warped nation, comes the hour 
That ])lucks thy faithless (|uill of ]»ower; 
Thy life assumes its yellow U'af, 
Thy heart is frozen stiif with grief. 
Thou art thyself as gray a thing, 
Thou do/y kingdom, as thy king. 
Bear witness, ye who heai- my voice, 
Ye wlio eome through fear or choice, 
Constantinople's towers will fall. 
And all Avho fight around her wall 
Shall slee]) unwakened till the roar 
Of con(jUest shall resound no more: 
For those anear and those afar 
The full, impartial loom of Avar 



76 irp:na's lesson. 

Shall weave one common shroud whose thread 
Will thicken o'er the lanceless dead, 
Its warp and woof be blood and dust 
Raked from the soil in which they rust. 

" Tell me, ye hosts wliom I survey. 

Ye frail ephemera of to-day. 

Proud warriors, when your brows grow cold,, 

The price for which your lives are sold. 

Glory ? Ah ! is this the prize 

For which you blacken the blue skies, 

Stab the repose of crowns and thrones, 

And floor the earth with bleaching bones ? 

Glory ? Will some champion tried 

Step hitherward and by my side 

Explain what pearl, or star, or creed, 

Is this for which he pines to bleed ? 

This game you seek a gem must be 

That I, methinks, would like to see. 

High Heaven ! let hell, or convex earth, 

Say which of these records its birth. 

Within what month does glory bud, 

What is the tint of glory's blood ; 

Or is she of such 2:)recious grain 

A rainbow flows through each blue vein ? 

In what strange pasture here below 

Does this rare weed of summer grow ? 

What, prithee, may for milk and meat 



irena's li:sson. 77 

This prowler of the jungle eat ? 
How many weeks, her lakes among, 
Does she require to hatch her young ? 
Was it at midnight, noon, or morn, 
This sacrilegious imp was born ? 
Has she a face to fieclge the lyre ? 
Who was her matron, who her sire ? 

" Avaunt with glory ! Fie, thou slave ! 
I have observed the tear, the grave. 
The April flower, the shallow guile. 
The falling snow-flake, and the smile 
That flatt'ry glues to her thin lips. 
The bubl^le, gossamer, eclipse. 
And all the roll of nothings, down 
To my own monarch's frowzy crown : 
Not e'en the feather of a naught 
Escapes the searching lens of thought : 
There's something tangible, some seal 
We all may see, we all may feel. 
E'en in the outcast grain of sand 
That wantons on some desert strand ; 
But, on that sea of salt we shed 
In memory of the murdered dead. 
Where is the quivering victim who. 
Beaded in 's blood-drops peering through 
His microscopic bayonet. 
Has ever glimpsed at glory yet ? 



78 irena's lesson. 

Poor soldier, burst those flexile chains 
That choke the wine within thy veins 
And crush, despite thy scarlet steel, 
This painted Inig beneath thy heel. 

" Why do I thus soliloquize 

Of kingly webs and human flies ; 

A\'hy do I talk when none are near 

To censure, praise, or cross me here ? 

I know full well an idiot race 

Will still maintain its wayward chase ; 

It has been so from Adam on ; 

It will be so when I am gone. 

" I wonder what new fly-wheel now 
Rotates in <Jyrirs busy brow ; 
Or does the stage on mem'ry's track 
And love's swift horses bear him back 
To pleasant peace and boyhood scenes 
His manhood lost in life's ravines ? 
I know not now, if evermore 
He knocks at dead affection's door ; 
But, if to him my name's still dear, 
I pledge one penitential tear 
For all the part that falls to me 
Whose cold white fangs I failed to see. 
Too late, when I entrapped the game, 
The pilot of reflection came, 



irena's lesson. 79 

And so the bark that promised most 
Was wrecked on reason's leeward coast. 

" It oddly sounds in me to sny, 

Despite my froward, wilful way, 

My past demeanor and wild tongue 

Whose chordless notes w^ere random-strung. 

That I have ever dined with love, 

Have ever worn the lily glove. 

Or schooled my heart to break its spell ; 

Yet, Cyril ! I have loved thee well. 

" 'Tis over. Well, what care I then, 
A dew-drop on the fields of men ? 
Ere yon great traveler of the air 
Has combed and curled his" amber hair, 
Has passed six mile-stones in the sky, 
The leaf I trembled on is dry, — 
A grape seed for some gilded gnat. 
Aha ! 'tis consolation that. 
However high the fop may soar, 
He flies his circuit and no more ; 
That, when his somersault is thrown, 
He nestles in the seas alone ; 
That he, too, his poor caper played, 
Must seek, like me, some lowly shade. 
I should regret to harp in vain 
A single disconcerted strain : 



80 IK EN A 's LESSON. 

I condescend to watch and wait 
To swing awhile on fortune's gate, 
And harass none ; nor will I ask 
What slumhers for me, when I l)ask 
Upon the housetop of my prime, 
Within the mystic womh of time. 

" List to the murmur of those l)ands 
Assembled here from distant lands, 
Like grass-blades lolling Ijreast to breast 
On some wide })rairie of the west. 
AVhere'er I turn, the hills reveal 
A sleeping wilderness of steel 
Beneath yon shyly shining moon. 
As silvery as the cold lagoon 
That spurns some insult unforgiven 
And flings her })icture Ijack to heaven. 

" Aml)iti()us chief who play'st the game 
Of death and chance, wilt thou proclaim 
The profit of thy cjuest so inv 
For one sick, eyeless mole of war ; 
Or is't, vain-glorious peacock, pride 
Tliat lures thee from thy heatlien liride 
T' exhibit here with sword and sail 
The tints of thy capacious tail ? 
Lean lightly on the warrior blocks, 
C'linked dee}) among the i)umice rocks, 



irexa'8 lesson. 81 

That constituto the temple, sire, 
Of which thou art the slender spire. 
While christian huntsman baits the net 
Whose strands have failed to toil thee vet, 
Parade thy plumage, gaudy fool, 
Strut round the walls of Istamboul, 
Fill out the cheeks of thy bright hour, 
Display thy pomp, enjoy tliy power, 
Lest some Delilah might at length 
Betray thy locks and cheat thy strength. 

" The night is growing and a robe 
Of jetty silence wraps the glol)e. 
No sound is heard along the vale, 
Save thy calm song, sad nightingale. 
The sultan sleeps and does not heed 
The music of thy tribe and creed. 
Thy glossy chords, lone philomel, 
Are lost, unless thou weav'st some s})ell 
To fill the empty ears of sleep 
With soothing harmony, or keep 
Some Ranic measure whose rare art 
May suit the quicksteps of thy heart, 
Pin wings upon the hours of night 
And clothe them with a swifter flight. 

" Dost thou observe yon slumljering form 
Whom thousands wake to fence from harm? 



82 ii;i:na's lksson. 

He is tlie lord of fertile lands, 

Of docile slaves and servile bands ; 

On every tield, on t'vt'ry wave, 

He flies his flag to gorge the grave ; 

From clime to clime his cannon ring, 

And nations kneel to crown him king. 

His haughty soul is hnried deep, 

Deep down the hillowy gulf of sleep, 

While, from thy bowery palace, thou 

Oom'st forth to rule his kingdom now. 

"Sweet little queen, would'st thou exchange, 

Among thy mates, thy summer range 

In sparkling May or mellower June 

Thy lowly nest or ])laintive tune 

For all the s])ottrd eticpiette 

That ever moi'ked a sultan yet? 

'' His em})ire is a ])atch oi light, 

And thinr the semi-globe of night ; 

His guards and guides are l)ull)s of clay, 

But moons and stars secure thy way ; 

His favored eyes have never seen 

The sacred hands that crowned thee (jueen. 

That fashioned, while thy speech was young 

A scepter in thy dulcet tongue. 

Thy robes, though ]>lain, are still tliy own, 

The daisy cu|) thy ampk> thrcMie. 



IKKN^A S LESSON. < 

And those meek jewels that iipfioat 
Along the channel of thy throat, 
No proiul pacha's far-marsliallcd lines 
Can ever glean from Indian mines. 

"Strange thoughts! still I would not forsake 
My right to swim in fancy's lake ; 
These mental wanderings suffice 
To seal the past's unwelcome eyes. 
Still the old theme absorbs my ^xiind, 
And something tells me how unkind 
I acted some short months ago 
When my vain pranks served Cyril so. 

" How unexplainaljle is love ! 

Beneath, around, afar,- above. 

On coast or billow, everywhere 

As universal as the air : 

And yet, of all these many men, 

^Vhat two would chime concordance, when 

They told beside the camp fire pale 

Their early manhood's tender tale ? 

Will one sage volunteer define 

This happy nothing, this weird sign 

Hung out at Heaven's office, — dot 

Of something, and we know not what ? 

Let him command whate'er he ask 

Who executes Irena's task. 



84 irena's lesson. 

" When winter sets on all below 
His far-extending seal of snow, 
Look upward through the darkened air, 
Count the wliite insects sporting there ; 
Tell, one b}' one, the leaves that fall 
To weave the earth's autumnal pall ; 
Let staid, pedantic schools pronounce 
With reason's steelyards, ounce by ounce, 
How much may be in its green robe 
The circling weight of this vast globe ; 
Enumerate the grains of dust 
That constitute its massive crust ; 
Persuade the unimpassioned lake 
Never again its trance to break, 
Or fright the ocean's stormy brow 
To quiet with a hazel l;)ough ; 
Induce the moon to scant her power, 
Delay her course but one blank hour ; 
Go, when the snarling thundercloud 
LTnfolds, that, like a weeping shroud, 
Doth waste in grief o'er that dead day 
From which it shuts the soul away ; 
Range the deep skies from end to end 
And tc^ll those tears as they descend ; 
Reverse the drift of nature's plan 
And then translate the heart of man : 
Pick from the drapery hung on high 
Those shining cherries of the sky, 



irena's lesson. 85 

Prevent those wheels to roll above, 
Then write for me the laws of love." 

The maiden's crank, loquacious share 
Of random thought, usurped her prayer. 

" Irena, still my visions cruise 

On waters I am loth to choose. 

All Cyril's hopes long since have set ; 

Nor can my spirit soon forget 

The avalanche thou thunderest down 

Demolishing an entire town 

Of thrifty fancies thy sly art 

Had planted in this cheated heart, 

With foliage every street o'erspread, 

Upon my unprecautioned head. 

Thou strange, unfathomaljle girl 

My much-remembered, long-lost pearl, 

I have adored thee in my day 

As none on God's green footstool may. 

Although I could but treasure long 

As unforgivable the wrong, 

Without the motive such demands. 

That I have suffered at thy hands ; 

Still my grieved soul misgives me, still 

Some feeling ripples dow^n the hill 

Of dear remembrance, some sky dream 

Flies through the bushes by the stream, 



86 irexa's lessox. 

And castles that the air once wore 

Grow loftier than they loomed of yore, 

Till thy supremacy o'erflows 

The meadows of my joys and woes, 

And all I have, no longer mine, 

Of peace and truth is sieved to thine. 

Though now 'twill never l)e my part 

To gather blossoms from thy heart, 

Still in my bosom's orchard, may 

The Ijright fruit cluster, and the play 

Of thy caprices undisturbed, 

Diseaseless, rapturous, and uncurl)ed, 

Forever wheel in fortune's sight 

Till the eagle of thy life alight, 

And thy mild soul discard its cage 

Of clay, to read a smoother page 

Than this l:)lithe world, with all its cheer, 

Could e'er bequeathe to lure thee here." 

The flowers, the willows, the gaimt trees, 
Their lyric freightage, and the l)reeze. 
Assumed a deferential air 
And chimed amen to Cyril's praj'er. 

" All, all is over ; nevermore 
Shall Constantine his ills deplore, 
For death's full period ends the strife. 
This troiil^led sentence of mv life. 



irena's lesson. 87 

Oh ! what an oceanfiil of groans 
Attend on sick and aching thrones ; 
With what excrnciating thouglit 
Is dissohition's advent fraught. 
And what an armament of Ijliss 
Is wrecked in such an hour as this, 
When death flits up from his darlc place 
And perches on the whitening face. 
Sweet Heaven ! Best diadem of all, 
Let mercy, like thy sunbeams, fall 
Upon my miseries and o'ercloud 
With brightness my ensanguined shroud, 
That no rude eye shall ever keep 
Its vulture watch where I shall sleep. 

" Farewell, my country. Sad decree ! 
Thou, too, art dying. Come with me. 
They wdll prepare thee some lone tomb 
In history's churchyard, where thy doom, 
Thy birthplace, deathplace, and thy age. 
May occupy one paltry page ; 
And some rude flower may droop its head 
In sorrow o'er thy throneless dead. 
Some heedless bird, perchance, may stray 
Around the caverns of my clay. 
Her low memoriam to sing, 
Above the cinders of a king. — 
There's something rooting up my l)reath, 



88 irena's lesson. 

Deal gently with me, Avolf of death ! — 
Thy ebon ax and crescent knife 
Ai'e nibbling at my strings of life. 
Unconscienced fiend ! AVhy wilt thou stand 
There with thy Gilead in thy hand, 
And smile to taste my agony ? Do 
Thy direst now, and riot through 
The few torn nerves that still remain ; 
Dig up my senses, rust my Ijrain, 
Pluck out my heart, gnaw oil" my head. 

Life's shadow's passing. I am ." 

His lips refused to say the word ; 
No feature of the monarch stirred, 
But death's fell tracks are ghastly seen 
Along the clay of Constantine. 

" Now, Mahomet, thy task is o'er, 

My barge is moored on victory's shore. 

This tragic day, at last is done. 

The fays have buried the dead sun 

In 's midnight cemetery, hurled 

1* roni his sway o'er a frivolous world. 

All now^ is silent, where so late 

The factory of the thunder sate 

Outdealing danger, fear, and death. 

With each deep sulphur-burdened breath,, 

And carrying its cloud-blots even 

Up to th' angelic face of Heaven. 



I REN A 'S LESSON. 89 

There is do sounding of the steel 

That trembled in the fiendish zeal 

Of those who stained the lustrous flood 

Of silver round it, with the blood 

That spurted from their bosom when 

Their lances sapped the souls of men. 

I saw to-day a soldier. He 

Had slain another. In the free, 

Licentious, fury of his art. 

He had uptorn his neighbor's heart 

Through pastime, with an eye unwet. 

Fixed on his blunted bayonet, 

I saw it beating in the beams 

Of noonday sunshine ; the red streams 

Least clotted of its scanty stores. 

Were oozing through the crusted pores. 

As if it rolled the bubbling tide 

To light anew its warrior's pride. 

" Sad spectacle ! Lideed, I thought 

That mother would be grieved who brought 

This man to being, could she see 

His heart paled on this iron tree ; 

Some father in his tears be drowned 

To learn the fate his son had found ; 

A brother, sister, and a friend. 

In pity-moving sorrow, blend 

Their briny tribute of regret. 



>9() iukna's lesson. 

To think how dark that hfe had set 
Which often phimed its infant powers, 
To paint the peace of other .hours 
When he and they, l:)eneath the shade 
Together once in childhood, played. 
Some maiden will be lonely now, 
For he will never keep the vow 
He made at parting ; all her care 
A^^ls centered in that center wliere 
The lance supports it, which no loom 
Of love will ever weave in bloom. 
This too is over; and the friend 
AA'ho gloated o'er his victim, screened 
By no one claim of mercy, 's flown 
To his Almighty j\Iaker's throne. 

" To-day I have been favored ; dressed 

In the gauzy gown of victory, blessed. 

With jaunty wreaths have I been crowned, 

In glory's synagogue been found, 

Have basked beside the conqueror's si)ring, 

O'erthrown a kingdom and a king, 

Subdued an army, have undone 

The toil of centuries lost and won, 

And fixed the fame of Mahomet 

'Till the mystic globe of time shall set. 

" And yet a sense of sadness cliills 
My bosom, 'mong these crimson hills. 



IRENA s lp:ss()X. 91 



Reposing in the noon of niglit 

Beneath the melancliolv hght 

Of those far stars, and overspread 

With l:)lankets of the matted dead. 

I see, wherever I repair, 

A thousand ghastly gateways where 

The souls of valiant men to-day 

Have trickled through their pulpy elay. 

Through trampled faces some have come, 

Through lacerated bosoms some, 

AVhile other spirits whose stout forms 

Were shaken into threads 'neath storms 

Of steel-bolts with their brimstone leaven 

Have gone in fragments up to Heaven, 

Or dripped in gore-drops down to hell. 

What is it asks me, ' Is tliis well ? ' 

Perhaps some merry lad whose frame 

Was rent to atoms, held good claim 

To diverse habitations, led 

Mayhap a checkered life, and fed , 

On the alluring vines of vice. 

Or gamed with virtue's testy dice. 

Till, halting at this deadly dyke. 

His merits and his faults alike. 

He sent his separated soul, 

Each portion, to its proper goal, — 

The dark division, to those cells 

Where wretchedness eternal dwells ; 



92 ikkxa's lesson. 

Tlie ric-her, though the smaller, sod 
Up to the flowery throne of God. 

Mahomet! what eyes will Imrn 
About their sockets in the urn 

Of vengeance when they see thee cast 
From the rock of thy ambition ; last 
Of many myriads whom thy pride 
Hath launched in slaughter's Judas-tide.. 

"Aside, 3'e cankerous thoughts! uncere 
Your wings, nor league your minions here 
With noxious summerflies like these 
To crop the herbage of my ease. 
Make way for lighter guests, and yield 
To chaster themes the mind's free field. 

1 wonder who it was, — that maid 
I noticed in to-day's parade, 
AVlio filled my bosom with a thrill 
That leaves it pained and vacant still. 
Through all the bustle of this day 
Her image has been in my way, 
Since first I saw her in the street 
Forcing a wildered, faint retreat 
Against such cataract as flows 

'Twixt jangling friends and furious foes. 
My thoughts have grown upon her. She,, 
And she alone, is all I see. 
A parasitic mistletoe 



irexa's lesson. 93 

Among her genial leaves I grow, 
And find ambition, shelter, peace, 
As fuller hours advance, increase. 
Of this meek, fascinating Greek 
A Ijroader knowledge I must seek : 
Yet patiently I watch and wait ; 
The future must unload its freight. 
Now I recline upon the breast 
•Of good old mother earth to rest. 
The spheres are glimmering in my sight, 
Ye living, and ye dead, good night." 

"After all this moil and ill 

I find myself Irena still. 

A nation has been fractured, yoked ; 

As if it were a kitten, choked 

In the pond of glory ; nevermore 

To waul or pur on her old shore. 

saw, fragile as the flower I give 

To her sad memory, T yet live ; 

While thousands of her champions stanch 

Whose massive energies might craunch 

My system to an eml)er, sleep 

In downy silence. 

" I could keep 
My watchings for a hundred years 
Beside them, wrapped in smiles and tears, 



94 ikexa's lesson. 

And chatter with them kindly, speak 

Of tender things, pat the cold cheek. 

And tell them curious odds and ends 

( )f once beloved and trusty friends, 

And still no syllable outstarts 

From the white lips or pulsaless hsirts 

Of those serene reposers : they 

Sigh no answer to the words I weigh ; 

The nerveless and discourteous ear 

Accepts no note of scorn or cheer ; 

They have no peevish murmurings, 

No millionaires, no creeds, no kings ; 

Here, side by side, one cavalcade 

Of unambitious warriors laid, 

The haught, bright sun's unbending glare 

Frowns on their unshut eyes with rare, 

Fierce majesty from oat his chink 

Of azure, and they do not wink. 

Though I should smite their faces, stain 

Their pale foreheads, though the wild rain 

And bitter winds should rudely swee}) 

The pillows of their peaceful sleep, 

No pining, discontented word 

'Mong this dire group is ever heard. 

Mysterious change ! Strange ebl) and flow ! 

Ah ! yesterday it was not so ; 

For all those now otfenseless men 

Were blasphemous in battle then. 



ikena's lesson. . 05 

" Alone and friendless, may 1 praise 
The happy scenes of other days ? 
Wliy doth my star of sorrow set? 
I have an eye can shame him yet. 
That was a meek and virtuous dawn, — 
I mai-ked her step across the lawn, — 
And, as I rose that morn to drink 
On(.' joyous draught, ah ! did I think 
A snake so fell in its foul slime 
Lay coiled within that tuft of time? 
But all that l)liss 1 know no more ; 
My dream of love 's forever o'er. 

" Ijounteous Heaven ! 'mong all thy stores, 
To lowly man to soothe his sores, 
Thou hast no treasure thou canst send 
More priceless than a faithful friend. 
Though swinish fate deal out his dole, 
Root up the fiower-beds of my soul. 
And rasp his cursed hone-bladed knife 
Against the fibers of my life ; 
Though stormy days be slow to close 
In sunshine, and rebuke my foes ; 
Though fate and envy strain the rack ; 
Though l)ristling fear beset my track ; 
Though mouse-jawed fiend, by dark or day, 
(hiaw at each nerve that tunes my clay ; 
With sootv hand come rnde despair 



96 ikexa's lesson. 

To soil the lace that hope should wear, 
And snatch from off lier trenil)ling form 
The last frail shred that fenced the storm 
Though every hair upon my head 
Suspend an oak whose leaves are lead, 
And in its branches scream and sing- 
Each boding bird that grief can wing, 
While on its moss-grown, Ijarky wall 
The slimy toads and lizards crawl ; 
Though chill neglect and aspic scorns 
Dig up my soul to plant their tliorns; — 
I ask, though all these ills befell, 
But one true friend to brave them all. 

" But who is yonder messenger? 

He does not seem to sleep or stir. 

His glances all converge this way, 

Like a fish hawk settling on some prey. 

He gazes at me, as if I 

Were some intruder, or a spy. 

As if I bore this smudged tophaike 

For its own worth or beauty's sake, 

Or as, perchance, if I possessed 

One merit more than loads his breast. 

He's coming. Let me close attend." 

" Good-morrow, maiden." 

" My strange friend, 



irena's lesson. 97 

Good-nioiTow." 

" Art thou Will to-day, 
" Fair ladyship ? " 

" Sir, they do say, 
Despite some twinges in my breast. 
That I am well, who know me best, 
And so, I think, I am." 

" But test 
Me plainly, lady, how is this ? 
Thou metaphored'st annoyance, Miss, 
That seemingly steps in to vex 
Thy spirit witli un\\'holesome checks." 

" And if I did, Sir, I opine 

'Tis my affair and none of tliine." 

"Chaste maid, more softly ; rash offense 
Was never twin to judgment, sense. 
Or dignified behaivor ; I 
Only sought to smooth the sigh 
That ran so roughly o'er thy soul : 
'Tis stormy where such l^reakers roll." 

" Oh ! not so deeply, as I think 
Thou deemest, my complainings sink 
In this roiled bosom. I have naught 
Wherein thy sympathy is sought. 



98 irexa's lesson. 

What favor, ween yoii, one receives 
From him in whom she disbeheves?" 

" But, lady, tliough tlie past should wheel 
Beyond my power to prune or lieal, 
Yet something of the present might 
Find searoom in my appetite 
To do thee benefit, some free, 
Spontaneous gift to better thee. 
That might prove janitor, indeed, 
To loose tliee from the vice of need. 
Or aid thee in a future liour 
When even friendship's sky would lower. 
Bright lady, let a stranger task 
Thee now to answer what I ask. 
I fain would learn the lesson how 
Thy life hath pleased thee until now; 
Thy injuries and tliy joys proclaim 
Thy history, nation, creed, and name." 

"Then, soldier, hear the simjile tale 
That scuds before a narrow sail. 
1 know I can not aught impart 
To interest or warm thy heart, 
Nor would I, if I eould, T should 
Be recreant to my womanhood, 
Were I to stoop before thy face 
With servile port or anxious pace 



ikena's lesson. t)9 

To nullify thy full desire 

On every head thou mayst require." 

" Perhaps 'twere well that thou shouldst know, 

Eire thou displayed'st this calico 

If peevish independence, what 

A sentinel inhedged thy cot 

Of arrogance, and him, with whom 

It is, thou ventur'st to presume. 

Then, haughty maiden, I am he 

To whom those armies bend the knee, 

To whom they surge, for whom they pray 

Through desperate night or drowzy day. 

Thou ask'st for whom they bleed and die ? 

Then know, proud lady; he is I. 

I bid them go, and, like a sea 

Rolled in a storm, they heave and flee 

And leave behind them in the wake 

Of conquiest which their rudders take. 

Bleak desolation's fetid waves 

Whose bubbles are but soldiers' graves. 

A nation's pride I frown upon : 

'Twas, yesterday ; to-day, 'tis gone. 

There 's a town-clock in the minaret 

Of fame keeps ticking Mah-o-met. 

And so, I flatter me, 'twill tick 

For ages in its frame of brick. 

Yet thou, a woman, fragiler than 



IW IKENA's LEl-HCN. 

This lily's petal, foil'st my plan 
Of more consumate pleasure, wliik- 



" Twere better, couldst thou reconcile 

This Ycinity with thy lost host 

Than daunt a maid with such a l)oast. 

Unfix a period, if thou may. 

At where thou halt'st, to cut away 

The whole succeeding herd of wrongs 

To which thy list of vaunts belongs. 

Although thou shouldst crush empires, though 

Thou shouldst load down this earth with woe, 

And swim thy navies in the flood 

Thou drainest of thy fellows' blood ; 

Because thy cheeks be blotched with gore 

Must T, forsooth, regard thee more? 

" Thou seek'st imperative and stern 
The story of my life to learn. 
I will not shriidv, e'en here, to tell 
The chapter I have read too well ; 
Nor shall the sultan's dainty plusli 
Weave o'er my cheek one l^ashful blush. 
My life, sir, was of little worth. 
For aught I wot of, ere my Ijirtli ; 
And ever since that bridge I crossed 
Which l)a]ances on either coast 
Of something, and of nothing, dust 



irena's lesson. 101 

And being, I have feit the must 
Rise round me of my uselessness, , 
And someivay feel that worth grow less. 

" A few briglit hours and glad confreres, 

Home smiles, some curses, and some prayer^. 

Some sunshine, and some hopes of dew 

That melted as it warmer grew, 

Some gay soirees and happy friends 

Whose exit with their coming blends, 

A packetful of thorns and tares, 

Of disappointments, buffs, and cares. 

Of fond opinions trimmed and crossed, 

Conceits unhorsed, and favors lost, 

Of fancy's harebells trampled on. 

Of opportunities foregone, 

Of here and there some darkened spot 

Afloat within me, w'here the hot. 

Remorseless wheels of flattery's cart. 

In passing by, had scorched my heart; 

Of whims, caprices, and success, 

Anxiety, and happiness. 

Of want and plenty, doubt, delay. 

Of moves aright, and steps astray. 

Of barren places in my breast 

Where death, the black-beaked crow, oppressed 

His vitals with the sprouting corn 

Of my young comrades, rudely torn, 



lO'i ikkna's LKSSO.N. 

In tlie dawn of my existence, far 

From tlieir fields to those broad gates ajar, 

They speak of, in the l)ended sky, 

Where thy gross soul can never Hy : 

Some triumphs, and some failures, hate 

And gentleness, revenge and fate, 

Ingratitude and kiiuhiess, [)ain 

And pleasure, envy and disdain, — 

All knit and wound together, mixed 

In strange copartnership, and fixed 

By no unchanging l)ase or law ; 

These, my lord vizier, pacha, 

Or prophet, whichsoever name 

Thy majesty may court or claim, — 

All these, besprinkled o'er with tears, 

kSecurely hooped and cased in fears, 

Well ballasted ^vith groans and sighs 

For idle losses and the prize 

Imagination sculptured out 

Of some far-quarried block of doul)t ; 

As thickly as the tropic snake 

O'erchequered with misfortune's flake, 

These constitute the alphabet 

Which I have learned, — am learning yet : 

On all its poles, and zones, and shores, 

Profusely spiced with aches and sores. 

These elements have formed, combined 

In strange proportions and inclined 



ikena's lesson. lOo 

AVitli liiciny fertile sails of strife. 
My small revolving globe of life." 

" A curious history and, mes.^ems, 
That all men's lives afibrd such dreams. 
Fair lady, thou hast painted all 
The colors of our rise and ftill 
Adown th' accelerated course 
(Jf our existence, Avith faint force. 
What thou has scheduled for thyself 
Is common ware on every shelf 
Of frail humanity ; divines, 
All christians, — those blank, lureless signs 
Of something, — moslems, pagans, jews 
And statesmen, monarchs, and their crews 
Of beggars, heroes, jurists, slaves. 
Philanthropists, and czars, and knaves, 
Historians, philosophers. 
And officers of state, those burs 
That pest society, the friend, the foe. 
And each poltroon who sweats below. 
Might, if he would, himself unfold 
The selfsame tale which thou hast told. 
But, maiden, there is one great theme 
Which thou o'erlook'st, one vast dream 
That tempers in a trance refined. 
Each in his season, all mankind : 
Or hast thou always been, fair dove, 
A stranger at the feast of love ? " 



104 irena's lesson. 

"Thy highness touches on a spell 

Which never brooked a law, nor cell, 

Whose silken ensigns far-unfnrled 

Have veiled the face of all the world. 

Love plays a spruce, peculiar part ; 

His seeds are hid in every heart. 

In some, unendingly it sleeps 

Unfruitful, and, in others, creeps 

Out to see the sunshine ; sometimes, first 

With mildness, but, more often, nursed 

W^ith inappreciation, till 

At last it blooms beside the rill 

Of mutual regard to bright 

Enjoyment of its golden light, 

Or through neglect, through death, deceit, 

( )r no harmonious heart to beat 

Full music to the strain it ])lays, 

Tt sours, and sickens, and decays, 

'Till nothing now but sandstones roll 

O'er the dry valleys of the soul. 

Ah ! 'tis the sweetest blossom even 

In th' imperial brow of Heaven ! 

Yes, warrior, in my better days 

I dreamed, like others, but the rays, 

By me no more to be beheld, 

A darkened heart has long repelled. 

And, when reflections still recall 

Those thrones, the saddest of them all 



IRENA 'S LESSON. lOo 

Is that my hand impaired the wing, 
That my strained venom armed the sting 
Which, seorpion-hke, was doomed to turn 
On my own pride to freeze and burn, 
And drain another soul-tide low 
Whose fullness none but me could know 

" sultan, there are some young hearts 

That grow together, counterparts 

Of one another, each to each. 

Who thrive in love beyond the reach 

Of other hearts to separate 

The flowery ties themselves create ; 

And, yet, how often one rude thought 

Reciprocally, sharply caught. 

The idle word, one slight, has bm^st 

Those bonds asunder and dispersed 

The fairy trances that have flown 

So long around the silken throne 

Of their affections, while the eye 

Grows hollow, and the blood-fires die, 

And some huge serpent trails his length. 

Opposes his repulsive strength 

Of falseness on unyielding pride 

To make the breach more deep and wide, 

'Till reconciliation's brow grows wan, 

And the last plank of hope is gone. 

Sire, none of all my playmates feel 



lOf) irena's lesson. 

So much as I this truth of steel ; 
But such was fortuue's harsh decree. 
AVhate'er I am, was meant to be." 

" Good lady, let the curtains close 
Round those imaginary woes. 
Those marbles of thy youth are lost, 
Those early buds are nipped with frost, 
Mere playthings, viewed in reason's blaze, 
And let them pass with childhood's days. 
Sweet Avoman, wilt thou cast aside 
This dust and be a sultan's bride? 
\Yi\i thou return with me and fill 
My palace witli thy grace ? " 

" I will." 

" I have some maidens in my home 
Of splendor, but thyself shalt roam 
The Cjueen of all my mistresses. 
AA^ilt thou accept the scepter? " 

"Yes." 

" AVhen wilt thou pledge this holy vow ? " 
"My kind friend, I am ready now." 



irexa's lesson. 107 

Irena's star is bright at last 

Far up in fortune's azure vast, 

Yet Cyril's humble name awliile 

Beclouds the verdure of her smile. 

Full often in the buoyant hour 

Of ^\ine, and love, and lawless power, 

Here floating on the gaud of wealth, 

And gemmed with friends and sparkling health, 

How smooth her streams of life may flow. 

We have no rash desire to know. 

Nor is it meet that we report 

Her pastime in the paynim court. 

A few brief months have taken wings 

And slumber with departed things, 

The sultan lolls in all his pride, 

His chiefs of staff are at his side ; 

Beset by friends, unchafed by foes, 

The rising breeze of converse IjIows. 

"And yet, pacha, how strange it is 
That each base serf should deem as his 
The right to cross or criticize 
Whatever lures delight thy eyes ? 
"Tis sad, indeed,' the soldiers say, 
'Tliat Mahomet should thus delay, 
To tease and kiss a christian dame. 
His bright career of war and fame ; 
His empires dwindle, and his power 



108 irena's lesson. 

Grows thinner-chested hour hy hour ; 
The heinous rust of idleness 
Is eating up his armies. Less 
'Tis than a year, since last insteeled 
We reaped the harvest in the field 
Of desolation ; yet our ranks 
Already overflow the banks 
Of duty and obedience, and 
Discord reigns in all the land. 
'Twas not for this we staked our lives, 
Abandoned home, and friends, and wives ; 
'Twas not to fledge a flock of ills 
We parted from our own dear hills, 
Much les^, when she he prizes best — 
The St. Sophia of the rest — 
Whose needs our blood is spilled to save„ 
Is but a false-faced christian slave.' 
These, if thy mighty highness please, 
Unjust complaints, and such as these, 
At noonday, and at night, compose 
The sole refrain their converse knows." 

[ " To hint what touches me so near 

I thank thee much, my dear vizier. 
I will reflect upon thy words 
And warning ; to appease those herds 
Of warfare shall be all my care. 
Now, to thy post assigned, repair. 



irena's lesson. 109 

Till next we meet again, adieu. 
But, meantime, I would fain review 
My grumbling legions. Gather all 
From near and far, from tent and hall. 
And cot and palace. Let them meet 
In trappings, arms, and files, complete. 
To-morrow, when the sun shall ride 
In splendor to meridian pride, 
That I may hear their murmuring, 
That they may see their injured king. 
Good night, ^"izier, set all things right." 

■"As thou command'st, pacha. Good night." 

The gates of morning are unclosed. 
The fates, it seems, are well disposed 
To lend fair weather, and no feud 
Disturbs the cumbrous multitude 
That everywhere may now l)e seen 
Assembling on the fragrant green. 
Beneath his Grecian mistress' powers 
The sultan long beguiles his hours. 

^' Irena, thou art lost to-da}' 
Within th}' maze of beauty, say. 
Sweet seraph, canst thou tell me why 
Thou seem'st to-day Parnassus-high 
Above thvself? Ah! why outsoar 



110 irena's lesson. 

All thou hast ever been before ? 
And wherefore now enclasp thy armis 
About my neck so kindly? Charms 
Are discount on thy generous brow ; 
What makes thee so celestial now ? " 

" My good dear lord, I am not changedL 
Thyself, I fear me, art estranged 
From thy accustomed, gentle peace. 
Oh ! that Irena could release 
Her husband sovereign, and her own 
Dear shield, from any pang or groan, 
Or other faithless, cancerous guest 
That might be lurking in his breast. 
There hangs a cloud upon thy face ; 
I can distinguish scarce the place, 
So feeble are its rays divine. 
Where kindness' orb was wont to shine. 
There lies some secret, fathoms deep, 
Within thy soul ; it does not sleep, 
But flickers, like a dying lamp, 
Through the impenetrable damp 
Of every feature, on some flower 
That opens in thy heart's broad l^ower. 
It settles, like a bee, to taste 
The juices of its stamens' waste. 
Oh ! does it gather honey thence 
To sweeten and to recompense 



irena's lesson. Ill 

Its doubtful toil, or does it brew- 
But poison from the painted dew, 
To hoard from plants of agony 
A hive of grief for thee and me ? 

" If thou preservest in the boll 

Of thy remotest thought one sole 

Suspicion, undivulged to her 

Who would not let her fancy stir 

Her spirit, hidden from thee long, 

Then, Mahomet, thou dost me wrong. 

Have I denounced my people, creed, 

Flung otf my nation, like a weed, 

Devoted all my soul to yield 

Thee pleasure, till my senses reeled, 

Surveying from my gilded tent 

The gulf of my abandonment ; 

Have I forsaken friends, and e'en 

The thick young love that grew so green 

Along that prairie bosom whose 

Self-offering I would not choose ; 

Have I stormed kisses on thy lips. 

To darken with such base eclipse 

As foul betrayal, that repose 

Of confidence thy bosom knows ? 

If any charge thee I have been 

The agent of unfaithful sin, 

Oh ! give no credence to their tale 



112 irena's lesson. 

Of slander, and tear off the veil 

Of cold distrust, and stinging art, 

That shuts me out from thy fond heart." 

" The magnet, passion, ne'er did trace 
With firier ardor the deep place 
Of its affection than thy soul 
Treml)led to its Ijorean pole. 
Sweet woman, thou art free from taint 
Of any art to forge complaint 
Against thee, but — l)ut — " 

" Thou delay'st 
Along the road and idly stray'st 
From the smooth highway thou hast sought, 
To pull the mayweeds of thy thought. 
This but 's a, plum beyond thy reach 
Up in the branches of thy speech. 
Oh, what a fiend is often shut 
Within the glossy lair of ' but ' ! 
But. — Fy upon thee, frosty sign ! 
Thou never wert a friend of mine. 
Proceed, my husband. Let me kiss 
Thy lips, lest they should lisp amiss." 

" — But this mysterious world is full 

Of wondrous things. We, sometimes, ] >ull 

The cloak from off' the necks of deeds 



irena's lesson. 113 

In honest quest of motives, meads, 

That bribed an action ; still we fl\il 

To find the shore for which we sail ; 

And often, too, we stand alone 

On some high cliff, before unknown, 

From which it needs that we must fall. 

All sides are steep, and, which of all 

Is choicest, deep and dark below, 

Is more than we can ever know. 

Such is the jail, predicament. 

In which I find my present pent. 

Two warships with consummate art 

Have ranged their crossfires on my heart. 

Thyself, Ireiia, most I feel ; 

The other is my country's weal." 

" Good Mahomet, discard those shells 
Of crushed ideas ; in the wells 
Of fantasy there 's many a toad 
Unmeet to share such fair abode. 
I would our whims and fancies, too, 
Were even mate with what we do. 
Half what we sow we never reap ; 
And stale philosophy is cheap." 

" Oh well ! Irena, then no more 

Of this senile, reflective lore. 

'Tis handsome weather. It will last, 



114 irena's lesson. 

Methinks, till this great fete is past. 
Now come, my tulip, we will ride 
To yon green hill's enchanting side ; 
For it would please me, couldst thou see 
The myriads who are leagued with me, 
xA.nd that those legions should behold 
Thy beauty in its sheen and gold." 

" Oh yes, kind husband, what you will." 
And so they rode to that green hill. 

" Irena, 'tis a pretty flower. 
Just in its first unfolding hour." 

" 'Tis, Mahomet, and so I gleaned 
It from its little stalk and weaned 
Its tiny form from shower and breeze. 
And all its infant luxuries. 
I'm sorry now. 'Tis sad to think 
That this frail gem, just on the brink 
Of all that summer joys extend, 
Is thrust to this untimely end." 

" Fair maiden, cast aside that flower. 

I feel it armed with some strange power ; 

It looks me in the face with eyes 

Of censure that I must disguise. 

'Tis well, Irena. O love, see! 



ikexa's lesson. 115 

Far lip the azure canopy, 
I think I see a phantom float ; 
Now, nearer, ferther, more remote." — 
And, fohowing with his naked sword. 
He watched it as it surged and, soared. 
" It circles with such magic grace, 
Methinks an angel sweeps the place. 
'Tis white as chill Decemher's snow. 
Dost thou not see the vision ?" 

"No." 

" Look closely for 't, maiden. Meet 
'Tis, thou scan'st it closely. See 't 
Among those clouds. So ; fix thy gaze. " 
His weapon glittered in the rays 
Of noonday for a solemn pause 
And trembling, like a silken gauze. 
One moment, skimmed the airy flood, 
The next one, drank Irena's blood. 



Beheaded at a single blow, 
Irena's purple life-streams flow. 
"See," shouts the savage chieftain, "I 
Can burst the chains of love that tie 
My soul to beauty, when the land 
I govern makes the sad demand." 



IIS irena's lesson. 

The play is over. Tlie last scene 
Is shifted on the hillside green. 
The martial audience converse 
Upon the actors and disperse. 
All from the tragic field are gone 
To quiet firesides ; — all, save one. 
And she is resting where no sore 
Of sorrow can disturb her more. 
Too late she learned the bitter task 
That all must learn, who vainly ask 
A higher sphere and brighter gem 
Than God himself designed for them ; 
Who sternly frown on those young mates 
They gayly meet at childhood's gates, 
Who trample on those cups of snow 
In summer days that round them hknv, 
In wild ambition's arm to clasp 
Some phantom far beyond their grasp. 

May all my friends subdue the fire 
Of distant and unjust desire, 
Nor covet poor Irena's spell, 
Or soar as high to fare as well. 
Here is the grave the maiden fills 
On this lone spot among the hills ; 
Tis here she smiled a sultan's bride, 
Tis here she closed her life of ])ride, 
' Tis here on the all-judging day 



irena's lesson. 117 

The trump will peal to wake her clay. 
Here Cyril's self might come to weep : 
Gentle traveler, let her sleep. 



HORATIO'S HISTORY. 

Long gazing on some purling streamlet's tide 
Whose crisping waves two concave worlds divide, 
How fondly do we linger in our dreams 
To view the pearls that ripple little streams; 
To drink the soughing gale that rocks their rest, 
And trace our semblance in their glassy breast ; 
To pluck the flowers along the banks that grow, 
Or watch the waters as they stilly flow : 
Then from our tranced enjoyment turn to trace 
The beauties that impart a wilder grace. 
Not unperceived, unsought, nor unsurveyed. 
The whit'ning rapid, or the wliite cascade, 
The stormy fall, the whirlpool's madd'ning roar, 
The groaning clifl' or foam-enveloped shore. 

And where, in mazy flights of giddy chance. 
Tame visions flit and wilder scenes advance, 



HOKATIO'S HISTOKY. 110 

When that still wave aclown its shelving l:)ed 
Is lashed to foam, a smoking torrent sped : 
We turn to view with interested gaze 
The sterner smile of nature's rugged ways, 
Till every look the warring powers inspire 
Applauds the vision that we must admire ; 
And, first denying, then complying, yields 
The knee of liomage on those angry fields. 



'Tis tlnis kind feeling l)Osoms love to trace 
The waveless waters of their kindred race, 
As, streaming softly from the limpid soul, 
Unstained and still the silver currents roll ; 
'Tis thus, amid their groves and arrased howers 
They seek the shade and cull the wayside fl^owers ; 
'Tis thus along the surgeless shore they stray 
In trancjuil pleasure on their peaceful way : 
But when those waves their latent powers unfold, 
O'er the rough rocks of human passion rolled, 
They madly plunge along their shrieking course 
And, sweeping on with demon-wasting force, 
Aftbrd the hand to paint their foam-downed hreast, 
A bolder pencil and a deeper zest. 
Thus, in the balmy calms of peace and home, 
'Tis mine to bask, to idle, and to roam ; 
Thus, on the marge of war's chaotic stream, 
I trim my feather and select my theme. 



120 Horatio's history. 

It is the evening hour, and nature's lyre 
O'erdrops its plenteous notes of rythmic fire, 
In thrilling waves from time's yEolian wings, 
The unfenced music of creation rings, 
And Avondering spheres, to list awhile the peal, 
Are chained in silence on the orbs the}^ wheel. 

The tumbling world, ere sleep shall seal her eye, 
Would hymn an anthem to the throne on high, 
'Till kindred souls responsive chime above 
And loving strains replume the strain of love, 
Assume her sweetest dimple and adore 
The fire-king, drowning on her Avestern shore, 
Would arch her brow, delay her spouse awhile 
Reflect to heaven each golden-mantled smile. 
Bend lowly down her green-robed spine of clay. 
And thank her Maker for the exiled day. • 

Her husband sun, immersed in vaporous night, 

That gathers o'er the ocean of his light, 

And, stooping where the twilight wave extends. 

Below the eye, regrettingly descends. 

His sapphire garbs of rich Hesperian glow 

Adorn the pulsing flood of gold below 

And drift majestic from the flaming west 

O'er troubled homes and homes of happy rest ; 

While, robed in beauty's silken silver-fold, 

The Noxian queen, through eve's cold concave rolled, 



Horatio's history. 121 

Fair, pale-faced Luna in her waning clianns, 
Is age reclining in her infant's arms. 

Now, gathering from ethereal caves on high. 
Bright-bannered hosts are marshaled in the sky, 
And, forming far around tlieir dark'ning arch, 
Time their slow footfalls to creation's march ; 
In giant evolutions swell the strain, 
Shake the huge pier that lifts their ocean plain, 
Wield, dangling in the skies, their glittering shields, 
And flaunt the banners of their fenceless fields. 
Dark, frowning night with world-l)eclouding brow 
Stands trembling on her field of action now ; 
Dismayed to meet the Leaven-encompassed host 
Or charge the lightnings of their Ijurning coast, 
Recoils before she rouse their strength divine 
And fjuivers far adown her drooping line, [grow 
While those great guardians bright and brighter 
In haughty mockery of their black-browed foe. 

O sacred scene of beauty and repose ! 
Sweet as the smile of morn's unfolding rose, 
Still as the calm o'er life's last couch of ease, 
Soft as the perfumed sigh of summer breeze, 
Rich as the robes celestial zephyrs wave, 
Unbroken as the silence of the grave ; 
All-hallowed hour of recompense and peace. 
When strife, and toil, and self-spent sorrow, cease, 



122 Horatio's history. 

When toil-wrung millions,with their cares o'erpressed, 
.\nd half a wear}' world go down to rest, 
Oh ! would that, gazing, we might fondly dwell 
On those sweet lessons which thy beauties tell, 
So mildly taught, so sweetly sanctified, 
Pure as the stars that gem the silver tide, 
Uncounted and unsinful, still and fair, 
As slumbering angels in the bowers of air. 

But darkening are the shades we symbol now 
Along creation's meditative brow ; 
Ill-l)oding are the types pale fancy molds, 
And sad the scene tlie pensive eye beholds. 
Where, stretching onward far, those jeweled skies 
Earth's mixed affections, seem to emblemize. 

Mourn, sick Columbia, mourn this tranquil eve. 
Ah ! take of yon far or)) a lingering leave, 
Receive thee now thy patron's parting glance, 
Awaken, creep from out thy dreamy trance; 
Deep be the sigh that Ijreaks thy passive rest, 
And sad the gaze that greets thy sunset west. 
Beyond thy native wilds, thy cultured meads. 
Far from thy fragrant plains thy sun recedes ; 
His eye beams dimly o'er thy peaceful towers. 
His level rays fall faintly on thy l)Owers, 
AVhere,o'er the darkening sward Ijcneath their shades, 
The nurseling cypress blooms, the olive fades, 



Horatio's history. 123 

And, mid the scenes that close his gorgeous plu}', 
■Conckides the drama of a happy day. 

Eftulgent o'er thy convalescent woes, 

Thy sun of peace in morning freshness rose ; 

Resplendent o'er thy tiower be-spangled zone 

That sacred globe in noonday splendor shone ; 

Fondly he soared to cheer thy gladsome sight 

And gorgeously pursued his happy flight : 

Now, lowly perched o'er unpacific isles, 

That orl) of peace in evening grandeur smiles, 

And, in the red horizon of thy years, 

Like a dying meteor's phantom, disap})ears. 

Lament, Columbia, o'er his kind sojourn. 

For dark will l)e the hours ere he again return. 

Serenely mild, yon em})ress of the skies 

Records the glory as it blooms and dies : 

Yon modest moon with dumb, unmotioned gaze 

An epicycle of thy years portrays ; 

Thy planetary type her roinid has rolled, 

A cyclic season of thy moon is told. 

Columbia, thrice thy emblem c^ueen was young, 

Thrice o'er thy rest in silver fullness hung, 

And twice, when tranquil years had dried their flood. 

Thy skirts were soiled in carnage and in Ijlood. 

Behold now, gazing at thy sick, gray age, [sage. 

Once more some blood-fraught storm our fears pre- 



124 Horatio's history. 

Dark, fearful drifts thy firmament o'erspreacl, 
Where late so bright thy glorious lamp was sped ; 
A troubled night is gathering drear and deep, 
Where vainly long thy woes will pine for sleep, 
Where long thy palsied arm and fevered brow 
Will mourn a wild design and broken vow, 
Where direly bright the fires of carnage burn 
Till o'er a tempest world the calm of peace return. 
Ah ! like those gems that gild thy vaulted skies, 
Star after star, thy zealous children rise, 
Thick constellations fair o'er worlds Ijelow 
To quench the hours that drag thy nights of woe : 
O'er thy rent hills and desolated plains. 
Thy fertile children will avenge thy pains, 
Unlade their spirits on the burdened blast. 
Till morning's dewy hour has dawned at last ; 
Their gleaming steel on fields of death ungird 
And wait the thunder of thy trumpet word. 

But lonely, lingering groups of night shall roll, 
Fair spheres must wander from the starry pole. 
Bright gems grow dim and faint in night's cold crown,. 
One after one, in silence shall go down. 
Till, when reveille thrills the morning air, 
Full many a star will give no answer there ; 
Those wandering orbs that ftir have burned away, 
Columbia's sleeping sons beneath their cloaks of clay. 



Horatio's history. 125 

See yon green hills whose flossy capes unfold 

To shade the tender flower when dews are cold ; 

Just o'er their wavy, sphere-embroidered lines, 

Hunil)ly in heaven a twinkling starlet shines. 

Mark its sweet gaze and unassuming glance. 

In lowly flight observe its pinions dance ; 

How valiantly it girdles' for the fight, 

How ploughs its dart the massive shield of night; 

Ah, little star, be thou our theme of praise ; 

How dazzling is thy unpretensive t:)laze : 

Let us pursue along our battle line 

Thy modest course where prouder planets shine, 

Since, in thy higher flight and humbler car 

AVe see in thee " Horatio's symbol star." 

One kindling vernal day I strayed alone 
Amid ten thousand feasts of nature's own. 
Fresh rose-red prairies, woodlands mantled green, 
And heaven's blue meads hung i' the ocean's sheen, 
Glossed angel smiles of hope's divinest power, 
Soft mellowed strains of rapture's highest hour, 
The warbler's sinless song, the wave's wild chime, 
That tripped its measure to the march of time. 

The soft winds rocked in peaceful slumber sweet 
The ocean billows at the mountain's feet, 
Entwined their silky arms in fond embrace 
Around the bower and kissed her snowy face, 



126 Horatio's histoky. 

Dipped their clean fingers in tlie tressy hair 
And flowing robes the joyous valleys wear ; 
Now tuned their lyres in concord rich and long^ 
To hymn for happy man a holy song 
And lure his raptured soul from toil and care 
In silver cliimes to their blue house of prayer, 
Priest nature's hall of praise, creation's shrine, 
When systems perish and when suns decline. 

O'erjoyous in the gladness fortune gave 

Her swelling heart around her idle grave, 

A silvan wild, outstretching far in view, [of blue. 

({raced her green arch 'neath heaven's high l)ridge 

In ambient folds her flowing mantles swee|» 

The waveless waste of nature's skyey deep. 

She wore her jo^^ous garb in winsome pride, 

She trailed her flounces 'long the mountain side. 

And her green crown grazed high at nature's call 

The star-gemmed ceiling of her banquet hall. 

There many a mighty tree its pride upheaves 
To sway aloft its glorious crest of leaves : 
Mark with what gracious strength and graceful ease, 
Each flings its emerald banner to the breeze ; 
Unvanquished chiefs of thrice a hundred years^ 
And proof alike 'gainst winter's frozen tears 
And summer's tide of light in air-flakes shed, 
Unsympathetic as the shrouded dead. 



HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 127 

As aged giants, freed from dungeons cold, 
When tender tales of all their wrongs are told, 
When smiles assume the throne that sorrow shared 
And harsh success crowned all their manhood dared ; 
When fortune smiles upon their labors done 
And fame bestows the laurels merit won ; 
E'en thus o'erjoyed each sky-encinctured oak 
Mocks the alarm its billow-frowns provoke. 

In frantic joy beneath the leafy shade 
The frisk deer tries his limbs along the glade ; 
High in the elastic boughs the squirrel springs, 
Far on the cliff the eagle plumes his wings, 
And genial hearts that light each other long 
Fill up the valleys of the turtle's song. 
Diana's form in huntress' garb arrayed 
With headlong pace the peaceful haunts invade ; 
Her gleaming quiver o'er shoulders flung. 
She leads the foamy chase those wilds among. 
List now, where far the fiery goddess roves, 
The thund'ring grottoes and resounding groves. 
A thousand lures within those wild wood bowers 
Too fleetly wheel love's chariot of the hours. 

Far to the orient climes of morning's gold 

The rippling desert of the ocean rolled. 

Proud Neptune's trident stemmed the sleeping foam, 

Nereus napped within his crystal home. 



128 Horatio's history. 

Eolus frolicked in his mountain cave, 

And Plirjebus speared far down the fohage wave : 

In placid respiration the cold dee}) 

On her nude couch pursued a dreamless sleep, 

Breathing the swell tliat twice as often rolls 

As fleet earth circles round its spindle poles : 

Her breath, tlie a/Aire of the skies of June; 

Her blood, tlie fishes ; and lier lungs, the moon. 

There many a lofty mountain finds a grave, 

A thousand fathoms 'neath the zenith wave. 

Bespangled there, uinuimbered l)illowy shields 

Rock calmly o'er tlie sheeny waterfields ; 

Unnationed there, in strange commotion whirled, 

A vast creation teems a briny world. 

Where, gayly garljed, the sportive dolplnns sweep 

With bony plume the arching, azure deep. 

And silently the toilsome coral walls 

The finny millions from his lime-reared halls. 

Lo ! o'er the wave yon bark that proudly bears 
Her pennon streaming through the breathless airs 
And brings from polar climes or torrid sands, 
Perchance, some precious freight to ger.ial lands. 
How richly interlace her twining shrouds 
The mellow folds of day's rose-colorecl clouds. 
How seraph-like her snowy pinions spread 
To waft her swift o'er ocean's salty l)ed, 



Horatio's histokv. 129 

How [)iire those robes the tender breezes blow 
Unsulhed as some sea-cliff's crown of snow, 
How stainless is tlie heart she flings to rest 
A sinless infant on a virgin's breast. 

O slumb'ring l)arge on thy unshackled wave! 
How red the storms thy silver shrouds may brave, 
How wild the flight thy cord-bound wings ]>ursue 
Around the waste of ocean's trackless blue, 
How lordly on the tide those sentries shine 
That guard thy course along the frothy 1)rine, 
How dread those steel-cased eyes in slumber bound, 
Those tongues whose iron thunders peal around. 
Should fancy trace thy still untraveled way, 
What chequered futures might lier eye survey, 
What rocky coasts thy oaken prow may clear, 
What happy homes in sorrow may'st thou near, 
What lioneyed draughts of peaceful toil resign 
To (piafl'the reeking cup of human wine; 
From ruljy fount of mangled hearts, distilled 
In one dark hour of war's wild ])hrenzy, filled, 
What gilded dreams thy oaken loins may bear, 
Wliat pleasure nurture or what sadness share. 

Oh! who that sees tliee in thy glad array 
With smiling face along thy s})ai'kling way, 
(Jould carve for thee from danger's rising breath 
A self-hewn grave-bed in the pit of death? 



130 Horatio's history. 

^\'ho that now looks upon thy shining spars 
Or vieAVS thy living gems and streaming bars ; 
Who that now warmly heaves his pulsing heart, 
Fires his proud eye to see tliee what thou art ; 
Who that now prides him in thy slumb'ring power : 
— Prophetic Fate ! conceal the fearful hour. 

Poor, wayward thing! All dread will be the skies 
With tiery storms that o'er thee yet shall rise, 
No death-fraught plume of lawless hurricanes 
E'er swept the face of India's sultry plains. 
No red sirocco's world-deforming hands 
E'er strewed with death Sahara's desert sands, 
No crashing }>eal when mountain rocks are riven, 
No thunderlx)lt e'er plowed the hills of heaven, 
More sharp or tierce, than yet shall sweep the storm, 
Ill-<lestined bark, around thy darkened form. 

Did ne'er yon radiant orb of paradise 

Invest with life the shell-l)Ound cockatrice, 

Did ne'er some Hower of softest tint entoml > 

The artless heart that sipped its luring ]:)loom, 

Did ne'er the writhing serpent wound the breast 

That wrapped it warm to si amber and to rest? 

Ah, woe the hour of l:)oding solitude 

Whose sun thy unhatched basilisk sliall brood ; 

Woe thy false flower whose corolets unspread 

To chill ten thousand hearts with death and dread ; 



Horatio's hihtory. 131 

And woe thy asp-envenomed fang that darts 
An icy shudder through a milHon hearts ; 
Woe worth the hour thy j»erjurous bosom rides 
The stormy swehs of war's purpurea! tides, 
Stems tlie stained waves of Ne])tune's foamy plains- 
And clots the sea with streams of human veins. 

O ocean ! let us read thy trouljled flood, 
High-ridged with type of flame and ink of blood- 
See in perspective dire, thou faitldess barge, 
Thy sooty heart resign its precious charge, 
Betray thy hallowed trust for light exchange. 
Wheel thy dull form and fix the fearful range, 
Hurl thy red missiles to the sacred goal, 
Rend to poor shreds thy own dark-shrouded soul. 
Deal thy wild thunderburst of lurid flame. 
And tell a blushing world thy deed of shame ; 
Thy bosom fair, the flame thy power should quell,. 
And stamp thy form a miniature of hell ; 
With strangling gripe enclasp a maiden land. 
And crush her life beneath thy festering hand, 
Till, tossing high her pale, imploring arm 
In wildered throes of anguish and alarm. 
Offended heaven is roused in one dread hour 
To seal the terrors of thy demon power. 

Thy crimes are o'er, thy perjured toils are done. 
Thy pride no more will hail the waking sun ; 



132 HOKATlo's HISTORY. 

Beneath thy mangled sisters, cold on thee, 
Thy heart will mold, thou slumberer of the sea. 
Ah! scorpiondike, when hopeless and distressed, 
Tlune own rash fang })rol )es deep thy poisoned l)reast, 
Pling on a shrinking world thy scowl of ire 
And wrap thy form in rol;es of crackling tire. 
One lurid blaze o'ersjneads yon trembling dome, 
And naught is seen except the plashy foam. 
One crashing thunder shakes the troubled shore 
And all is silent save the ocean's roar. 
The ill-starred Merrimac at last is tame, 
Her power, a memcry : and her pride, a name. 

Wide o'er the climes of freedom's l)road domain 
Lay the green bosom of a humble plain, 
Extending far a happy land around 
Where homes alike and budding tiowers abound, 
Where nature's partial band adorns the vale, 
Where laughing sunmier's earliest smiles prevail. 
When spring's young beauty flecks the tender hills 
And joyous gales evolve their gay quadrilles, 
Where free, beneath the moon's unchiding glance, 
(dad clioirs unseen entwine the choral dance, 
Where kind-souled sire, Appollo, richly showers 
His radiant smiles of gold to gaud the bowers. 

The bright flowers ])lossom on a thousand hills. 
And frill the margin of their mvriad rills 



H()RATI()'S HISTORY. 133 

Whose wizard strains rejoice along the plain 

And bear tlieir cadence to the shining main. 

Lo, well concealer! beside the l)rooklet's In^east, 

The tuneful robin builds her heavy nest, 

While, ever and anon, her swelling heart 

Lets out the joy her silvery notes impart ; 

The new-born buttertiy essays its power 

And gayly flutters o'er the siren flower ; 

The little lambs that gambol, in their joy 

A playmate find in every fustic boy. 

And each in glee a thouo-htless hour beguile 

Along the valley fields that round them smile. 

All innocently gay, meet visions these 

To throng the breast with hallowed ecstasies, 

And mark each scene enraptured l)osoms view 

With magic robes of kindred heavenly hue, 

And from the heart in hushed and pensive hours 

To mirror angels in the prairie flowers. 

Oh ! where is now the queen whose crystal shields 
Whose spotless garb o'erspread the ambient fields ? 
Forgotten winter, in thy tombed repose. 
How little recks for thee this bantling rose. 
How little sighs for thee the sportive child 
That vents his joy in shouts as glad as wild, 
How little heeds the warbler on yon bough 
The wakeless rest which thou art sleeping now, 
What miss, as each his round of pleasure goes, 



134 HOKATIo's HISTORY. 

Tlieii" listless hearts thy stainless breast of snows? 
The rippling rivulet dancing gayly on, 
Unmindful of his queen forever gone. 
Poor silent winter, like the life of man, 
Tliy reign is measured by a tiny span, 
Ere thy swift flight begins, thou see'st the goal 
Where, o'er thy cold and moldering ashes, roll, 
Like the wild winds of heaven, in airy mirth 
The mighty changes of unconscious earth ! 

Now list resound at morning's golden dawn 
The rustic carol on the dew-sweet lawn. 
His rai)tured lieart has wandered far away 
To watch the fluttering of the new-plumed day, 
Communing with the lark that sings and soars 
To herald him the hour his heart adores. 
Imbibing in his soul the trancing strains 
That far re-echo o'er the rural plains. 
Ah ! vain would bloom in scenes as rich as this 
Aladdin's storied fields of magic bliss. 
Sweet landscape, smiling in thy beauty wild, 
Be long the home of freedom's favored child. 

See far away beneath the placid skies 
The humble cottage of tlie freeman rise. 
Like some lone barge far out upon the sea 
Around whose breast the breath of heaven is free ; 
The curling vapor of his happy home, 



Horatio's history. 135 

Like incense, rising to bis Fatlier's dome, 
High o'er the world to hearths of l;)righter fires, 
In billowy folds soft-swelling, circumgyres ; 
A symbol meet, far upward as it toils, 
As the light heart that beats beneath its coils. 
Round that home in halcyon rambles rove 
The varied tenants of the field and grove. 
There, bold retreat the timorous lovers hold 
And adverse natures seek a common fold : 
The timid choristers from neighboring bowers 
Assemble there to spend their gayest hours ; 
All cuddle there in kind communion kin 
To bless the free born soul that lords within. 
Blest spirit would all human kind might share 
A home so hapj)V and a scene so fair ! 

Note now for future want and household care 
His anxious step to daily toil repair. 
With hopeful heart at budding of the morn 
In distant fields to grow the yellow corn 
And pray, while delving in the fruitful sward, 
That meet aljundance may his toil reward ; 
Columbia's weal, his nation's sacred pride. 
His happy children and his faithful bride, 
The only thoughts that serve to entertain 
The honest Vjosom of the honest swain. 
Those steal the moments of the toilsome day, 
These cheer his sorrow and his cares repay. 



136 HOKATIo's HISTORY. 

See yon gay maid, yon Ijright-eyed, princely l;oy 

That fill the fields with childhood's shouting joy ; 

See o'er the hills his rosy offsjDring roam, 

Free as the balmy gales that air their home, 

While, wreathing garlands from the plain that yields 

The rarest treasure of enameled fields. 

They twine in love with many a filial vow 

A crotv'n of roses for a mother's brow. 

And seek the flowers o'er pictured vale and hill 

Wliich, childhood says, their father treasures still. 

Ye gaysome strollers of tlie silvery rills, 

Ye jo3''ous ramblers o'er the breezy hills. 

Ye lightsome roamers of the laughing lawn. 

Ye gentle playmates of the infl\nt fawn ! 

Oh, would my soul were now to childhood fiung, 

Oh, would that mortal hearts were ever young, 

Or, ])etter wish and less unholy prayer. 

That childhood's cloudless skies were ever fair, 

That joy's young flowers miglit gild our summer's 

way, 
Till life's glad round had sped its sunny day! — 
Ye opening blossoms of immortal bloom. 
In your pure souls may sorrow never room ; 
Oh, that your bliss might soar to hights serene, 
Oh, that your fields might spread forever green, 
Unguiled companions of the birds and flowers ! 
But time's steam-pinioned car will l)ear ye darker 

hours. 



Horatio's history. 137 

Ye daisied meads, ye floods, and woody dells, 
How gentle to the heart where beauty dwells, — 
Such sweet communion do you kindly hold 
Witliin your sumptuous halls of sheen and gold ; 
Mild triune of creation, aptly dressed 
In tasty raiment of your matron's best. 
Harmonious blending each her native art 
To swell the fullness of a sister's heart ; 
Be long the type and haunt of gentle love, 
The paradise on earth that angels seek above ! 

How sweet to mark the kindness you portray, 
In courtly peace and generous love to-day. 
To each low bow of ocean's rocking tide, 
A courtesy capers on the mountain's sida ; 
To each glad shout that from the valley springs 
The list'ning hill or answering woodland, rings; 
While each coy wave that comss to kiss the shore 
And soft gallant with her he would adore, 
Must bear a garland from her treasures dear 
Across the ocean as a souvenir. 

Full long 1 mused in gayety serene 
Upon the charms that graced the lovely scene. 
Till, deeply tranced on fancy's stormy tides, 
Adown their pearly waves my shallop glides. 
Far, far away now speeds my raptured soul 
Where silver wheels of vernal pleasures roll ; 



]o(S HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 

Soft airy slumbers o'er my senses fall 
And cover nature with their silken pall. 
Ah, brighter fields delight my wakening eyes 
And holier visions in tlieir riehr.ess rise. 

Pure were the seraph fields whence I withdrew, 

But more divine the realms that now I view : 

Far brighter glows creation's l)lazing mine 

O'er wilds more sylvan and o'er fields more fine, 

And richer is the rainbow s])lendor seen 

O'er vales more verdant aiid o'er groves more green, 

O'er clearer crystals and o'er flowers more fair, 

Than earth |)roduccs or its waters bear. 

The radiant air was filled with fragrant balm, 
Perfuming climes that knew no breaking calm; 
In many a massive column piled on high 
Tall mountains pro])ped the gold-eml)roidered sky 
ANHiose everlasting rolx's su})erbly glow, 
Whose diamond crowns are their eternal snow. 
Surrounding far, where stormy silence reigns, 
Ambrosial sweetness in Elysian plains. 

From jasper founts, o'er })orphyritic sands, 
Through meads luxurious in these haunted lands, 
Througli gilded vales and rainljow gardens gay. 
Soft rills are dancing in their elfin play. 
And perfumes rise from aromatic flowers, 



Horatio's history. 189 

Dispensing sweetness in delicious bowers, 
M^here Alma branches in their beauty twine 
With hvacinthine bloom and luscious vine, 
Beneath whose shade the pheasant folds her wing 
And paradisian warblers gayly sing. 

Amid the groves where strains divinest thrill, 
Behold Ijeyond, a sapphire-circled hill 
Whose gorgeous Ijrow of opals richly rare 
Reflects the soul of each l)right vision there, 
And, peering proudly to the stormless skies, 
Allures the ravished sight of cherub eyes ; 
For e'en the pure of Heaven, in kind delight, 
To dally there swift wing their joyous flight. 
Ye angels, high in bliss eternal crowned, 
VMiat do ye call that rich and radiant mound ? 
Poor mortal, let me fold my clay-made arm 
And bow my soul in adoration warm. 
My simple l^reast with deepest reverence fill, [hill. 
Hail,, virtue's sainted l^ower and Freedom's sacred 

Congenial goddess, can our bosoms know 
In climes so holy thy inspiring glow, 
Or deem we, as in hopeful dreams we roam. 
To find thee fringed in so divine a home ? 
Art thou so near allied to blissful power 
That gentle angels seek thy heavenly bower, 
Wliere needy man ma}'' sell at bounteous price 



140 HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 

The lees of life and })iircliase ]iara(lise? 
Ah, Freedom, yes ! those magic fields are thine, 
And sunnier ones and regions more divine, 
Those groves are thine, and this delightful ])lain 
That undulates across thy gemmed domain ; 
And thine those fountains and those piles sublime 
Tliat liound the realms of thy em})yreal elime. 

consecrated queen ! Let me delay 
Around thy balmy bowers for many a day, 
And, near thy throne of grandeur and rich grace, 
The landmarks of thy votive children trace. 
Full many a faded flower and shriveled leaf 
Remind me of some valorous victim-chief 
Who, in cold ages of the darksome })ast. 
His cherished blossom in thy soil would cast, 
With deep, ensanguined hope and lioly care. 
To see the gem take root and flourish there. 
But, oh ! too blind to cherish such a gem, 
Poor wayward man despoiled thy diadem 
And gave to blighting frosts of worldly scorn 
The only flowers that might thy brow adorn ; 
Alas, to deeper, darker, shameless, ills consigned 
The benefactors of his erring kind ; — 
At last, transfixed witli venom-gilded dart. 
The dearest treasures of a human heart ! 

Such was the fiower from rugged Alpine steep 
That made so oft thy glorious archer w^eep. 



Horatio's history. 141 

Such was the flower from Russia's frozen flood 
That crimsoned Poland ;vith her children's l)lood, 
And shriveled on its stem in wintry gore 
When Kosciusko's bosom heaved no more ; 
And such the flow'ret dallying with the gale, 
Sweet, though unblown, from sorrowing Inisfail, 
Chilled by the storm that swept around the slave 
And laid her Emmet in a martyr's grave ; — 
So cold a meed a freezing world l:)estows 
To struggline; Freedom in her infant throe?. 

But, O high queen of realms so saintly fair. 
What buds are those that here thy home declare ; 
What gems are those for l)lissful souls and thee 
That gra?3 the walks around thy Liurel tree, — 
The only blossoms 'neath thy sheltering arms 
That smile defiance to the blasting storms 
And keep still gay thy basque of May-day prime, 
Despite the icebergs on the tide of time ? 

Thou holy emljlem of a happy land. 
Long may thy bosom to the skies expand. 
Long may thy fragrance in those bowers al^ound 
And hope's white laurel crown this hallowed mound, 
May no rude hand enshroud thy folds in gloom, 
No tempest chill thy everlasting bloom : 
Here let my raptured eye exultant rest 
On each 3'oung gem that crowns thy golden crest ; 



142 Horatio's histoey. 

Here let my ftmcy trace, my heart surrey 
Tlie first-born bloom of Freedom's dawning day; 
Sweet flowers and laurels smiling side by side, 
Columbia's emblem, and Columbia's prid^e. 

AVhen bright aurora o'er creation rose, 

And Phfjebus dried the dew of human woes; 

When Liberty's archangel trumpet spoke 

And sleeping millions in their chains awoke, [ed 

When Freedom's shout from hights Olympian peai- 

And called her legions to the tented field, 

'Twas then, fair forms, your snowy robes unfurled 

And poured their magic on a bondaged world. 

Then, like a harp's, in rich accordance strung, 

A thousand strings in each warm breast were rung 

Till kindled millions caught the rising tones 

And turned their soul-dazed eyes on tr-embliiig 

thrones ; 
Plxultant host to greet the welcome hour 
They might evolve their all-engulting power, 
To vent their vengeance on the gorgon's grave 
And hoot oppression o'er the barrier wave. [steel 
Then swept the storm and clashed tk' avenging 
That made red thralldom's burning blood congeal ; 
Then rang the thunders of your Ijannered brave 
And shook the Ijleeding realms they rang to save; 
Then on this mound in stormy ages past 
The tender germs of thy young flowers were cast; 



Horatio's history. 143 

And then uprose in those tempestuous clays 
Thy bovvers so heavenly that the angels praise. 

Long have I wooed the bliss possession yields 
To raptured hearts in those perennial fields ; 
Nor, long delaying, reeked the wave of time 
That swiftly swept e'en o'er this favored clime, 
Bright years are buried since my barque was flung 
On streams of vision when those years were young. 
Now to your foster realms returned to dwell. 
Green seats of Freedom, and sweet bowers, farewell. 
Once more I view my home-born, damsel plain. 
The court'sying forest, and the courteous main. 
The fields are blithe as e'er they were of yore, 
The wave as fresh as when I left its shore. 
The gentle birds' soft songs as sweet and dear, 
The courtly smiling heavens as kind and clear. 

But where is now the calm sequestered cot 
That once adorned this wild, this cultured, spot ? 
Where is the manly form that cared these bowers. 
The happy pair that plucked the rosy flowers ? 
What means yon vine-clad home in day's repose 
That meekly towers where once his cottage rose? 
Lo, seated at the cheerful evening fire, 
A pensive matron and an aged sire. 
Full well I mark upon that hoary brow 
Some solemn thought is seated princely now, 



144 HOKATIO'S HISTOKY. 

While, through the bar.s of that deei>-l'uiT(>wed face, 

A well known soul my recollections trace. 

His is the form in faithful matin toil 

That rocked the corn to sleep beneath the soil ; 

His is the arm that oft the harvest stored 

And thence abundance drew to grace his Ijoard, 

That sought and found, through ills, and toils, and 

fears, 
A plenteous hoard for future, feel)ler years. [ed 

Alas ! the years when morn's young sunl:)eams j>lay- 
Are now long lost in life's dim sunset shade. 

Mysterious time ! How wings thy tireless plume 
Our trivial flight from childhood to the tomb 
While l;)rittle bars of clay confine the soul, 
Through life's short span, how swift thy seasons roll ; 
First on the globe of life comes smiling spring 
To make existence wake, and bloom, and sing. 
And fans with gentle gales and vernal hours 
As pure, and fair, and tender, as the flowers. 
Then summer each awaking l)ud unfolds, 
A\'ith sunny hands the trusty rudder holds, 
AMnle, now and then, wild sweeps some sullen cloud 
In lurid blaze and angry ragings loud, 
But calms again, to leave the scene more gay 
And paint a rainlxtw on tlie sheet of day. 
Now autumn yields to zeal the cereal meads, 
And mocks the idler with a field of weeds ; 



HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 145 

Slow wheels across the equinoctial line, 
That toil may long rejoice and sloth repine, 
Turns his mild glance on life's receding shore 
Still to retrace the hours that are no more. 
Last in the round comes winter's chill repose, 
When fields and flowers are cold beneath the snows, 
When frozen skies forget their charter right 
And pleasure's brumal sun clieats half its light, 
Bequeathes to frosty age the warmth of lore, 
Refines the petty crown to golden ore. 
And points to Heaven, beyond the wintry wave, 
Where grief can never storm the castle of the grave. 

Within yon house where gentle hearts retire. 
See lordly now Horatio's humble sire ; — 
His spring and summer gone and autumn passed, 
Now winter's snows are falling white and fast. 
What though where once his little cottage wall 
Stood on the plain, extends a wider hall? 
Thou must not deem that aged bosom swells 
Because its shadow moves in gaudier shells. 
No, still the self-same, unassuming soul 
In tender rule those airy fields control, 
Where fancy's wiles my bosom once imbued 
Through draughts of talismanic solitude. 
E'en now, my weary heart that far must roam, 
'Neath yonder roof may share a friendly home ; 
And thitherward my journey let me bend, 
To meet the warmth that greets an absent friend. 



146 Horatio's history. 

The little child that once the valley strayed 
To gather flowers, is grown a blooming maid. 
No more the fields in girlhood's glee she roams ; 
Her joys are now her duty's, and her home's ; 
No more she gathers wreaths of rosy down 
In filial love, a mother's brow to crown, 
But kinder deeds her gentle soul engage 
To soothe the cares and feebleness of age. 
She balms in love a mother's each desire, 
And comfort lends to cheer her languid sire. 
Nor slights her heart with all its toils and cares 
The weary one that to her home repairs. 
But with a gracious smile she meets that guest 
And opes her stores to yield him food and rest. 

The little youth that ranil)k'd l)y her side 
In life's green hours o'er meadows gay and wide, 
Looms up in grace, to branching manliood grown, 
And in far other fields liis name is known. 
'Mong those fresh trees that crown yon sloping hill, 
Near that soft fount which feeds yon })urling rill. 
By yon still stream where shine his father's skies 
In rural worlds, see lore's meek temple rise. 
'Twas there long days Horatio passed tlie hours 
In })ained retirement from the fields and flowers, 
There many a dark and prol)lematic ]'age 
Did his vexed mind in painful toil engage; 
There many a noble task his liosom wnrmed, 



HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 147 

There many a feat his fledging soul performed, 
Till, crowned at last through long, laborious years, 
He stood the pride of all his young compeers ; 
In all he sought, among his rivals famed, 
The first in mildness, first in love, proclaimed, 
Till, blest by honest hope and unfeigned praise. 
Were closed the labors of his boyhood days. 
While virtue lent her shield her child to guard 
And zeal's keen scythe had reaped a rich reward. 

What marvel that the sire of such a son 
Should pride him in a life so well begun. 
Or why should he his treasured child deny 
A wing of gold to soar a higher sky ? 
Not such, indeed, could be that father's part ; 
He knew a nobler soul, a kinder heart. 
His own long years to toil obscure resigned 
Inspired his breast to see his son refined. 
And now far off he sends that youthful heart 
That he ma}^ learn to play a rarer part, 
And versed in all that art may learn here. 
In later life to wheel a wider sphere ; 
To give the world, perhaps, a deathless mind 
And leave some jewel to enrich mankind. 

Rejoiced, Horatio bids his home adieu 
And curves his energies to deeds anew ; 
He seeks the seats where lofty souls convene 



148 Horatio's history. 

To train true troops for life's long battle scene, 
Where earnest forms, to sleepless toil resigned, 
. Expend their treasures to expand the mind, 

And through high surnmer's heat or winter's cold, 

Tlie tortuous lal)vrinth of lore unfold. 

And wliere emaciation's fingers trail 

Their snowy tracks o'er Ijrows no longer hale. 

Full conscious of the powers he long possessed, 
Nerved by the praise that fired his youthful zest, 
And pledged to chase fame's flying phantom down 
(_)r scale the rocky summit of renown, 
Did that free mind to college halls repair 
To breast new waves and find new harlwrs there ; 
Nor vainly do his his eagle hopes aspire 
And white-winged joys exalt his anxious sire. 

No mother weeps for him, thougli far away 

He must remain through many a lengthening day 

No sister bends to dry the falling tear 

That miglit bedim the hour of parting cheer ; 

No friends are sad that lie must leave his home 

And lonely in the stranger's circle roam. 

Full well they know that crime will not degrade 

The name of him on whom their hearts are laid, 

But virtue, zeal, and love, will still attend 

To bless a noble son and guard a friend. 

While honor's generous maids their meeds allow, 



Horatio's history. 140 

And twine the laurel wreath around his brow. 
Succeeding years shall bring them brighter hours 
And summer days shall deck their paths with 
flowers, [o'er, 

When that young heart, school's long-wrought lal)ors 
Returns at last to ]iart ft'om them no more. 

O glittering Hope ! thy painted scenes how sweet. 
How fond the hearts our future hopes may greet, 
How dear the souls in verdant circles pressed 
Which withered age would welcome to its breast, 
How smoothly on its course life's vessel keeps 
When soul's wide ocean in the bosom sleej^s, 
How fair the joys, in fimcy's furnace cast, 
Of future years far mirrored from the past, 
When all we loved and prayed, and all we prized. 
In vanished days, shall yet be realized : — 
Sweet faded flowers in nature's young repose 
Which summer showers and sunshine may disclose. 
But, oh, how stormed, how restless, and how deep. 
The billowy souls of those who wildly weep. 
When youth's rich dreams have melted in tlieir 

sight 
And life's bright morn is gloomed in tempest night, 
When thy frail bark the eddying wave divides 
And sinks forever in the foaming tides. 
When fond, fond hopes have left our bosoms sore 
And all they wished for once they know no more : — 



150 Horatio's history. 

Sweet op'iiing flowers of nature's summer liloom 
Which fate's inclement storms have crinkled to the 
tomb. 

Ah ! soon around this modest rural hall 
The blighted lofty hope will darkly fall, 
And dancing joy o'er sorrow's steep ravine 
Step from his rock to darkness unforeseen. 
Horatio soon shall to his home return, 
Beseat him where the fireside eml)ers burn, 
Shake the warm hand of him who liolds him dear 
And softly, kindly, shed the meeting tear ; 
But in that home his ];)Osom may not dwell 
And he must weep tf> ])id its warmth farewell. 

Hark ! whence that wild, prognastic sound 
That deepening rolls a startled nation round? 
Oh ! whence afar that deep, mysterious peal 
Which makes the hearts of awe struck millions reel, 
As if some storm howled forth its angry roar, 
Some earthquake prowled along the ocean's shore ? 
'Tis not the nymphs of nature's frantic arm 
That marshal in the skies the frowning storm ; 
'Tis not the sickening world's convulsive throe 
That rends her bosom with the blade of woe ; 
'Tis not red volcano's rumbling jar 
Proclaiming havoc o'er her kingdoms far, 
And spinning high her streams of burning gloom 



Horatio's history. 151 

To pile a mountain on a nation's toml). 
Oh; speak to man thou dark Atlantic wave 
The peaceful scene thy pulseless Ijosom gave ; 
Oh, tell his soul what flame thou hast revealed, 
AVhat peal tliat swept far round thy foaming field, 
What nymph of shame and grief that sadly bore 
This blood-dyed herald to a turtle shore ! 

Thou plaint-tongued ocean in thy l)riny breast 
How many gentle forms are low at rest : — 
Oh, name the myriads in thy spheral shrine, 
On whose cold brows no moonbeams ever shine : — 
How often plunged thy lurid tempest wild [ed ; 
O'er liarmless scenes where heaven had kindly smil- 
How often heaped thy angry furies dark 
A maniac mountain o'er the maiden bark. 
Why paled thy brow and reeled thy aching head 
At war's hoarse thunders and her light'nings dread ? 
Where slept thy tides when fiamed th}^ fier}- breath 
That hurled a nation to the gulf of death ? 
Account, cold ocean, for her reeking graves 
That yawn unnumbered as the surging waves, [er, 
O shrieking sphere, where slept thy treacherous pow- 
When millions shrieked in terror's fearful hour ? 
Where bore thy winds the world's wild, wintry wail 
When nature trembled and the stars grew pale ? 

Oh ! wherefore glow from hearts we treasured most 
Yon iitful flame on Carolina's coast, 



lo2 HOJtATIcys HISTORY. 

Thos3 booming sounds that esho far and wide, 
Like peals of thunder when the skies divide, 
That bathes a nation's throbliing breast in tears 
And darkly gloom her beauteous, virgin years? 
Lo ! the red battle-cloud that wildly falls 
Around the pile of freedom's crumbling walls. 
See yon wild Ijurst, yon drift of burning hail 
That melts the rocks round Siunter's patriot pale, 
Oh ! list that hollow wailing, sad and lone, 
'Tis Freedom's sigh, a soldier's dying groan. 

Here once l)cfore, old ocean, on tliy breast 
The sulphurous cloud of battle lay at rest. 
When Albion's navies l)ridged upon thy foam 
Oppression's highway to a freeman's home. 
When Britain's lion couched in silk and gold 
Would tear the lambkin from his chosen fold, 
When Freedom's kindling eye to Heaven u])raised 
Defiant on her proud oppressor gazed, 
Wlien, to the spheres, her starry folds unfurled, 
A weak-limbed l)al)e defied the giant of the world. 
And thou, wild wave, in other days hast seen 
The ray of sunshine burst those storms between, 
Columbia's jewel blaze, Brittania's rust, 
A misty cipher of its putrid d\ist, [nown 

When Heaven's high hand disclaimed her ill-re- 
And tore the precious gem from England's haughty 
crown. 



Horatio's history. ' 153 

Then soared the eagle to the solar sun 
And screamed hosannas for a nation won ; 
The stars and stripes, like rainbows in the sky, 
Brought welcome smiles to man}^ a troubled eye 
. And promise gave to Freedom, bleeding sore, 
That battle storms might gather there no more. 

Alas, paled ocean, that a valiant band. 

With dark design and suicidal hand, 

The poisoned dart to liberty should guide, 

E'en on that wave where foiled oppression sighed, 

Where once proud Albion's standard fell 

As fell her tears to bid thy shore farewell ; 

Where Freedom reared a rude palmetto pile, 

And valor fought on yonder sandy isle ; 

Where Jaspar's valiant form once bared his brand 

And stood the flag-staff of his chosen land. 

Columbia hears along thy surfy shore 
The busy guns of burning Sumter roar ; 
Her faithful few are toiling nobly there, 
Her banner torn still writhing on the air ; 
Like some lone beacon when wdld winds unite 
That gilds the storm with unextinguished light. 
Forewarning treason with her flaming locks 
To shun the breakers of Rebellion's rocks. 
Must Anderson's brave men submit or die ? 
She hears from sea to sea their feeble cry. 



154 Horatio's history. 

Then fires her breast that vahant few to aid 
And- glorify the truth her sons displayed ; 
Her mantling millions loud she calls to raise 
The weeping emblem of her glorious days ; 
And through the clouds around this isle of Mars, 
Her wounded eagle, and her darkened stars. 
From all the climes that belt her broad domain, 
Her children meet with many a martial strain ; 
They shade the walls of all her warlike piles, 
And every vale is ridged with human files ; 
Her marshaled legions 'neath a midnight sky 
Unnumbered as the stars that shine on high. 

With patriotic eye Horatio sees 

His country's flag unfolded to the breeze ; 

He hears with ravished ear and kindling soul 

The martial music of Columbia roll ; 

He feels within his heart's remotest urn 

The embryotic sparks of manhood burn. 

Till all that heart is wrapped in one wild flame 

Fed by the cobwebs of his nation's shame. 

His bark bears down upon his country's foe 

And life's best pleasures on the billows go. 

No more, the schoolboy task shall tease his brain, 

No more, success reward the scholar's pain. 

No more, shall cold and toil, perplexing, gloom 

The lonely student in his midnight room ; — 

He loved the pages of enchanting lore. 

But he loves glory and his country more. 



Horatio's history. 155 

Farewell, sweet scenes of innocence and cheer, 

Farewell, thou haunts that shall be ever dear. 

Now welcome Ije the soldier's stormy toil 

And purple fields far from his native soil. 

But, ere he cut the ties so long he knew. 

Let him return to bid his home adieu. 

Fain would his filial soul a balm impart 

To soothe the sorrows of a father's heart, 

And cheer the mother that so long will tell 

A tender tale of him she loved so well ; 

And fain would he upon a sister's forehead wreathe 

The garland flowers affection's lips bequeath. 

Ah ! now what once familiar tones he hears 
Around the home where bloomed his early years ; 
What spells enchant his boyhood's blest retreat. 
What visions now his dewy eyelids greet. 
There stands in happy pride the virgin groves 
Where sought he oft the wild game's sheltered coves ; 
There leaps the wave wdiere oft his birchen bark 
Toyed w4th the weaves till day's bright hours grew 

dark ; 
There stands his father's dwelling in the glade 
WTiere oft in romping glee Horatio strayed, 
And where, among its warblers and its flowers. 
He past the brightest of life's sweetest hours. 
The fertile fields are green with growing grain, 
The joyous herds are grazing on the plain : 



156 Horatio's history. 

Once more the fields hold fragrant jubilee, 
Once more the songster seeks her chosen tree ; 
Harmonic groves that ring ten-thousand lays 
Recall the raptures of his by-gone days 
And fill his breast where clashing feelings foam 
With all the magic of a childhood home. 

Untraveled wanderer on the waste of life, 

Advent'rous mariner on the gulf of strife, 

Now let thy melting soul rejoice to share 

The sumptuous banquet nature spreads thee there. 

Once more, young soul, a sunny garland glean 

From those pure flowers that glitter on the green ; 

They still remind thee of thy April pride 

When, fair as they, thou blossomed'st at their side.. 

Then let thy hearts rejoice thy friends to greet 

And pass the last sad hours in consolation sweet. 

One nervous sun will quickly speed awa}' , 
Then shines the lamp that lights thy parting da3^ 
Oh, how mayst thou improve each flying hour, 
;■ Or q\iell the sighs that rise beyond thy power ; 
And how mayst thou each little look regard 
That gloomed affection would to thee award ? 
In overladen mood thy joyless sire 
Prepares for thee what thou mayst soon require^ 
With all a father's love, a father's care, 
To meet the wants an absent eon may share. 



Horatio's history. 157 

His aged heart divines the wave of strife 

That breaks around a soldier's rocky Hfe, 

With naught to bony him on that wave of dread, 

But shipwrecked thousands of the silent dead, 

All coldly drifting to that solemn shore 

From which the war-worn warrior roams no more. 

Too well he knew that such may be the doom 

Of him who now goes forth in manhood's bloom ; 

The cloud of death may densely close around, 

Life's wintry sun descend his snowy bound, 

And young Horatio's multilated clay 

Become the jackal's feast or vulture's prey. 

Ah ! hoped he thus, when in his better days 

He fondly traced his infant's little ways? 

Or, hoped he thus, as his loquacious son 

Would climb his knee when honest toil was done, 

With childish grace the simple legend tell 

And from his weary heart fanged grief dispel^ 

Ah ! hoped he thus, when first Horatio's name 

Was scrolled upo]i the page of school boy fame ? 

Dreamed he that thus care's gathering clouds should 

dim 
The sun-encircled hope that shone on him? 
Dreamed he that thus, as years enhanced his joy, 
To part all sadly with his only boy ? 
Oh, why, dear dreams of parent life, disclose 
Some hidden thorn l)eneath the feirest rose ? 



158 Horatio's history. 

Sharper than thistle the atiection liere, 

And more than rose, the hope he cherished dear. 

Be stilled, ye tempests of a troubled heart ; 

Let milder showers their plenitude impart. 

Goes not his son his nation's flag to bear 

And reap the laurels that the valiant wear? 

Is not Columbia's honor requiem-clad 

The badge of suffering on her bosom sad.; 

And wears she not in pensive sorrow now 

The cypress wreath around her lily brow ? 

As some fair barge when angry billows toss, 

And evil shapes her foamy pathway cross, 

That mutely calls, wdiile wrestling with the wave, 

Her wdldered crew their sinking home to save ; 

So with imploring glance that breathless maid 

Calls now her children in her need of aid : 

Shall his free son from royal duty shrink 

Upon the storm-rocked wave where she may sink ? 

Go ! go, Horatio, to the field of death, 

And shield that maiden to thy dying breath ; 

Arouse thy pride when valiant hearts are cliill 

To fill a warrior's grave on some new Bunker Hill? 

" Long, long, my heart shall ill be reconciled : 
But go, my son, Columbia needs her child. 
And oh ! my boy, did not stern sheriff age 
So closely chain me in this earthly cage, 



HOilATIo's HISTORY. 159 

Oh ! were it not that time's red hand hath pressed 

The chihy steel so deep within this breast, 

To serve thy sutfering land, a mourner grown, 

Far from thy home thou shouldst not roam alone, 

Thy feeble sire, to patriot manhood true, 

AVould take with thee of his loved home adieu ; 

Thy father, too, would seek her stormy field. 

Till life's last pulse should heave, his land to shield. 

That father's heart, in duty's spite, shall grieve ; 

But seize thy sword, my noble boy ; receive 

A father's blessing and a father's love, 

And guide thy heart Who guides the stars above." 

See now ; his mother's tear-beclouded gaz3 

Is turned to flow o'er thoughts of happier days. 

Before the face of memory's wizard glass 

The vivid forms of old divinely pass. 

Each litile scene that marked his childliood years 

And bloomed in youth's enchantment reappears ; 

And, as each form attests the mirror's truth. 

Her tender eye she turns upon her youth, 

In all a woman's sorrow undisguised 

While doting on the child she fondly prized ; 

With whom she fears too soon she must declare 

The parting word that rings forever there. 

Rich were those jewels in their bantling home 
Who swayed the thousands of immortal Rome, 



160 Horatio's history. 

Who stemmed the flow of disaflection's flood 
And sealed their fame with philanthropic blood. 
But could they fill a mother's raptured eye 
With loftier hope, when nol)le hope was high, 
When all a woman's warmest love was fired 
Than that bright bloom Horatio's smile inspired ? 
Ah ! never did Cornelia's breast of old 
With purer pride her ornaments unfold, 
Than lightened thy exulkmt heart to show 
Thine own dear pearl in youth's chameleon glow; 
And never lived a more respectful son 
Than that fond cliild whose childhood days are done. 
The eye that swells in tearful tenderness 
Shall long a mother's lonely love express, 
And long shall grief her heart's full fountains move, 
Though friends forbid and duty's self reprove. 

Like some soft lute that sheds a cheering sound 
To joyless hearts and cheerlessness around, 
Or when the shroud of nature hides the l)loom 
And maids of summer in a coral tomb. 
Like some sweet bird whose solitary voice 
Makes frost-brown hills and wintry woods rejoice ; 
In soothing strain and sorrow-healing word, 
A sister's gentle voice is lowly heard, 
Imparting to the sickly soul of grief 
Elixir draughts of comfort and relief. 



HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 161 

Corolla's docile heart has learnd to know 
Each little art that soothes her parents' woe ; 
She calms their sighs, forgetting all her own, 
And paints anew bright stars of pleasure flown, 
AVhile tender words the nymphs of grief decoy 
And cancel sorrow from the page of joy. 
The cheerful gaze her modest brow assumes 
With radiant light each shaded heart illumes ; 
The joyful beams of ftiir Corolla's face 
Fill that dark home with loveliness and grace. 
And sorrow's shades with smiling scenes adorn, 
E'en as Apollo paints the rising mists of morn. 

A soothing paraclete, and tender guest. 
Whose sacred presence makes e'en sorrow Idlest, 
And downs the flinty couch which anguish spreads 
For aching hearts and grief-unsheltered heads. 
See mild contentment smiling on each brow 
That kind forgetfulness leaves tranquil now. 
How still she sips the poison from the cup 
That discontentment's cheerless child would sup, 
Converts the venomed gall to nectar sweet, 
Or plucks the thistle from his wounded feet. 
Perfumes the scentless bowers with fragrant balm, 
Subdues his darkened storm to sunny calm ; 
From sorrow's drossy ore and rugged folds 
Joy's beauteous gems of shining metal molds, 
See even here she crowns the painful scene 
With richest robes of hope's divinest green. 



1G2 Horatio's history. 

No inore shall cold-eyed grief the soul subdue^ 
Or mute dejection cloud this fireside few ; 
Meek resignation lights her star to guide 
Life's vessel o'er affection's wintry tide 
Details an angel on the rocking mast, 
Till those dark swells and wilder waves be passed. 
In festive hours this lingering day shall close, 
And sweet contentment breathes a sweet repose, 
For one brief hour spurn sorrow's tyrant sway ; 
A kinder scepter rules this hearthstone gay. 
To cheer Horatio's heart and glad his sight, 
Let sympathizing friends convene to-night. 
Spread wide the board, the plenteous feast prepare 
The last beneath this roof that he may ever share. 

His early comrades sitting by his side 
Around him now are come from far and wide. 
And all are kind, in social joy discreet ; 
For it is dear when you.ng companions meet. 
But there is one among that gathering throng 
Whom his flowered heart has known and cherished 

long. 
Oitside his father's walls and gardens green, 
A dearer form his eyes have never seen ; 
Except three friends, our first, — perhaps, the best, — 
No heart so kind e'er warmed his youthful breast. 
To tell her humble worth suffice alone, 
Horatio's impress was his Clara's own 



Horatio's history. 163 

She shone an angel on his tender mind, 
In love's blue sky first star of womankind. 

Ye hurrying hours that drive so fleetly by, 
Rein your swift coursers in the starry sky ; 
Let those warm hearts their merriment prolong 
And sweet their joy with innocence and song. 
Ye happy comrades of the summer bowers, 
Long-loved associates of remembered hours ; 
Ye who together roamed when life was young, 
AVho joyed together, and together sung, 
Come kneel ye now together, ere we part. 
Perhaps forever, from Horatio's heart. 
"0 Thou who light'st the sun and bidcl'st the stars 
To bind their steeds and wheel their gilded cars, 
Who look'st upon this sad assemblage here 
And know'st the fate of him they come to cheer, 
A brother, friend, a son, oh ! bless, we pray. 
And shield poor C^lara's all in battle's lurid day." 

Ye have been dear to them, ye sister band. 

Dissolving night, extend thy parting hand. 

So soon to lose thee makes our bosoms sad ; 

We joyed so sweetly, and we sung so glad. 

If ever more thy round be dear as this. 

Oh ! what rapt soul may paint their meeting bliss ? 

And thou, young friend, before they part thee now. 

Let solace kind uncloud thy shaded brow. 



164 Horatio's history. 

Thou art not grieved for dangers thou shalt see, 
But thou art pained that they are sad for thee. 
While yet they owned thee was thy worth unknown, 
Unprized the heart that nature makes her own ; 
In all their rounds they met thy gentle mind, 
Pure and sincere as thou wert ever kind. 

Afflicted friends, your bosoms overflow. 
The dernier hour has come, and thou must go. 
A sister's dewey eyes their smiles betray, 
And Clara's lips their last sweet homage pay ; 
A father's trembling accents bless him brief ; 
A mother weeps in undissembled grief. 
Now roll the wheels and rings the warning Ijell, — 
"Oh, fare thee well, Horatio, fare thee well ! " 
Each melting heart swims down the deluged cheek, 
And snowy kerchiefs wave the words they cannot 
speak. 

Ah, verdant warrior, now art thou alone, 

On war's wild field and stormed arena thrown ; 

Thy friends, with downca^t look and measured pace, 

To their still homes the flower-frilled pathways trace. 

Now slender grief and graceful memory see 

Together come, for both are courting thee. 

Like two kind queens that rule a lover's heart. 

Each in thy bosom plays a magic part : 

First in thy breast, when grief's wet rain))ows fade, 



Horatio's history. 165 

Dame memory woos in robes of other shade ; 
Now 'neath her folds thy sunny heart is dim, 
And thus her plaintive strains we hear thee hymn. 
Within thy lonely bosom deeply swell 
Reflection's keys and wail a sad farewell. 

" Farewell, fond Clara, for a lingering while ; 

Oh, long, long, will I miss thy modest smile ! 

Thy gentle face to me was ever bright. 

As yon grown moon in solitudes of night. 

Farewell, dear Clara, more than bosom friend, 

Twin sharer thou of all my life could lend. 

Clean as the fragrant wreath we twined so oft. 

Light as the little birds that sang aloft, 

And mild as fondling zephyrs o'er my breast, [ed. 

Was thy new heart when our young souls were bless- 

Farewell, my father, oh, this hour is cold ! 

Perhaps no more may I thy face behold ; 

The silver snows of age, and thought, and care. 

Are drifting deep above thy raven hair. 

Oh ! if 1 might reward as fits a son 

The thousand things which thou for me hast done : 

This sad occasion will I long deplore, — 

Good bye, my father, till I come once more. 

Farewell, my mother : this numb heart is sore 

To leave thee lonely at thy cottage door. 

When all the world at times was deluged dark, 

In thee 1 ever found a saving ark. 



166 HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 

Poor tender heart ! may Heaven he mild to thee 
As thou, mild sonl, wert kind and fond to me. 

" Farewell, dear comrades of my early years, 
My childhood pleasures, and my childhood tears. 
Farewell, soft meads ; fiirewell, ye gentle rills ; 
Farewell, ye downy vales and sammer hills ; 
Farewell, ye groves whose woody chancels rang 
The mimic chorus of the songs I sang ; 
Farewell, secluded seat in love's green shade, 
Where many an hour I wooed the haughty maid ; 
Farewell, high peak, thy wood-land surging side 
Where climbed so oft my thoughtless boyhood pride ; 
Farewell, ye little flowers that blushed so meet 
And smiled with kindness when I called you sweet ; 
Farew^ell, slow-breathing ocean, nevermore 
May I glean garlands from thy Eden shore ; 
Farewell, ye little lutes of joy and love 
That taught me how to praise the One above : 
If once again I come to your green Ijowers [ers ; 
And you are gone, your graves shall share my flow- 
If never more your silken aisles I see, [to me ! " 

Oh, may I chant in Heav'n the hymns you taught 

But see, Horatio, thou art distant now 
From that loved shore where ocean leaned his brow. 
Far sing the groves and laugh the merry streams 
That still thy spirit hears in happy dreams. 



Horatio's history. 167 

Lo, deep in yon receding hills enshrined, 
Is that calm home thou leavest far behind ; 
And now, wide round as searcli thy wand'ring eyes, 
Low groves of steel and canvas cities rise, 
Where, armored bright in duty's blazoned steel, 
Our Ijannered fields in human masses wheel, 
Where, earth thy couch, andheav'n thy glassy dome. 
Has nature made for thee a martial home, [heave. 
Here, mingling with the crowds that round thee 
A soldier's frugal stores shalt thou receive, 
A soldier's tinsel garb thy limbs shall wear. 
And thy soft soul a soldier's sorrow share ; 
Th}^ breast must brave the dark, explosive dust 
And cold blue liail of battle's fearful gust. 
While thou must meet, like ocean's fearless rock, 
Tiie sweeping tempest and the sullen shock. 



But, 'mid the lurid lamps that direly light 
Bellona's darkened day and wildered night, 
'Mid tnose wild flocks in robes of gore and gray 
That bathe their plumes in danger's angry spray, 
Thy tender heart, still ruled by gentler powers, 
Turns oft to softer scenes of other hours. 
E'en now thy soul's kind eye is set in rest 
On some sweet form that tunes thy thoughtful breast. 
And, calm reposed 'neatli yon wide sycamore. 
Thus flow the strains thy chorded heart-strings pour. 



168 hokatio's history. 

My Favorite Flower. 

Blooms the rose upon the mountain, 

Smiles tlie daisy on the lea, 
Pearls refine the crystal fountain, 

And the coral gems the sea: 
Ah ! I know a richer coral 

Than the ocean billows bear, 
And a bloom of summer roral 

That no bower may ever wear. 

Not of gold, or diamond splendor 

Is the prize of which I sing, 
Nor tl)e jewels rich and tender 

In the casket of the spring : 
Nature's flowers, by Nature given, 

Nature's fields and valleys cheer, 
But a rose that mirrors Heaven 

Is the blossom I revere. 

Earthen roses, sun- ward smiling. 

Shed their fragrance round the lea ; 
Toil's sweet-weary hours beguiling, 

Shower their nectar round the bee; 
Fairer than the flower-fold airy 

That adorns the summer bower, 
Or the gems that gild the prairie 

Is my angel-coraled flower. 



Horatio's history. 169 

Raiiil)0\v tints and golden pistils 

Grace the flowers that grace the fields ; 
Ocean sands and ocean crystals 

Are the treasures ocean yields : 
Lovely heart and maiden duty 

Grace my inflorescent tree ; 
Gentle soul and gentler beauty 

Robe the flower that blooms for me. 

Richer blossoms drooped and perished, 

While I gazed upon their blooms ; 
Like the hopes T fondest cherished 

Sleep within the coldest tombs : 
But the mystic blossom lonely 

That perfumes my raptured hours, 
Brighter blooms, and brighter only, 

When I seek her humble bowers. 

Oh ! that life might fill its measure 

In the radiance of that flower ; 
My blest soul would bless the treasure 

In its last and lonely hour : 
Distant lands and ocean waters 

India's gold might keep from me ; 
Adam's sons and Adam's daughters 

Build a garden bower for thee. 

Far from home among the stranger, 
In the strife of human souls. 



170 H(JRATI0'S HISTORY. 

On the steel-clad field of danger 

Where the stream of slaughter rolls ; 

Lone, where thousands, weary-laden, 
Sink to everlasting rest, 

Let remembrance of my maiden 
Be the corselet on my breast. 



The gnarling clouds in many a frowning form 
Drench thy chilled breast with strife's inclement 

storm, 
While each dark mist hurls forth its sinuous fire, 
To blare and burn, and far in tears expire. 
Fierce o'er Manassas' field has blown the blast, 
And rains of blood have fallen red and fast ; 
Now o'er the field, on lonely picket post. 
Thy vision circumscribes a silent host 
Who with yon sorrowing sun unscathed arose, 
But who shall never mark its evening close ; 
And generous bosom-friends thy heart hath made 
On life's new stage, in narrow homes are laid. 

But ah ! what makes thy trembling bosom wan 

For other woes than those thou look'st upon ? 

Hears now thy spirit near the magnet pole 

Of thy young home, the solemn church bell knoll ? 

There 'mid its green and monumental piles, 

A long procession treads thy churchyard aisles, 



Horatio's history. 171 

Chime their sad epicecle, say their last prayer, 
And to their homes with clouded hearts repair. 
But one, alas, within the silent ground, 
Now calmly waits the angel's trumpet sound. 
Yon carrier brings to thee a death-fringed seal ; 
Oh ! nerve thy soul for truths it may reveal. 
Bend low thy form beneath thy forage fire. 
For thou must wail the burial of thy sire; — 
Tliat anxious heart which warms for thee no more 
In grief, soul-ljorn, Homtio must deplore. 

Lament. 

Have they laid thae, my father, all lonely and low. 

In the cold narrow cell of a clay-circled shrine 
Where the yellows-plumed beams of the sun never 
glow 

And the soft lily niys of the stars never shine ? 
Art thou sleeping, m}' father, as chill as the clay 

That builds its dark vault o'er thy silvery head ? 
Art thou plodding tliy wearisome journey to-day 

In the snow-drifted lanes of thesummerlessdead? 

Oh ! I miss thee, my father, when iields are in 
bloom, 

I miss thy sweet voice when the valleys are gay ; 
I shall miss thee when summer is laid in her tomb, 

And the last tress of autumn is ruffled and gray ; 



172 HORATIO'.S HISTORY. 

1 shall miss tliee when tempests iiiclemently l)lo\v, 
And the spiritless pinions of winter ma\ wave ; 

I shall miss thee, to gaze on the crystalline snow, 
As it slowly descends on thy grass-covered grave. 



I shall miss thee to think of the scenes I have known 

In the flower-gilded honrs of my infantile years ; 
I shall miss thee, to think when I wander alone 

Of the hour that we parted in rainljowless tears ; 
I shall miss thee to dream of the meadows and plains 

Where the strength of thy manliood was wasted 
for me ; 
I shall miss thee to muse on the sorrows and pains 

That the cares of my youth ever Ijurdened on 
thee. 



I shall miss thee when pleasure assumes her sweet 
smile, 

And the high priest of glory shall wreathe me a 
crown ; 
I shall miss thee when morning sings gayly awhile, 

Or the stars of the midnight in silence go down ; 
I shall miss thee when nature is screened in her veil. 

Or the sun in his splendor is glowing on high ; 
I shall miss thee when sadness is flung on the gale, 

And the lone sigh of sorrow goes hodingly by. 



Horatio's history. 173 

I sliall miss tliee when life like a dream shall ap- 
pear, [view ; 

When the phantom of time shall recede from my 
I shall miss thee when cold I recline on my bier, 

And a few cherished friends may my ashes bedew; 
But, ah ! may I find thee where, far in the skies, 

The high-heaving billows of happiness roll, 
iVnd the bright sun of Eden shall smilingly rise 

That is never to set on the dav of the soul ! 



Thy father sleeps, Horatio. Not again 
Mayst thou behold him in the haunts of men. 
No more thy l:)reast may share his warm eml)race, 
Thy lips may never press his pallid face. 
His soul, released, has left its shell of clay, 
xVnd high on golden plumes soars far away. 
But war drives on with nmtt'rings deep and hoarse 
Her death-shod chargers o'er her life-paved course , 
Far round the ring treads down the helpless host, 
And Ijinds her l)adge on death's dark winning-post. 
Thyself hast seen her blood-bedabbled steeds 
Stretch wide o'er icy vales and sunny meads. 
Hast, weeping, marked, in her red chariot ride, 
The lumb'ring wheels crush thousands at thy side, 
Till battle fields are now familiar grown 
As those fresh hills where life's first sunbeams shone. 



174 HOKATI )"s HISTORY. 

Rejoicing on tliy eoncli with heavenward l)row, 
On other lliemes tliy soul is musing now. [er'd 

Tlion dreani'st of hojies that briglit before thee tiow- 
E'er sorrow's cfouds on hfo's young day had lower'd ; 
For once, in simpler age, thy sparkling eye 
Gazed full on fame while genius drew thee nigh. 
E'en on this eve thou steal'st some hopeful glance 
A\'hich on thy spirit weaves an airy trance; 
Thou still perceiv'st her, doting fond as then 
Upon some form she fascinates of men : 
Tliou fancy 'st hearts in life's gay-verdured isles, 
E'en now, on whom she rays her lieavenly smiles ; 
And til us in calm reflection flows the strain 
That fills thy bosom with ecstatic pain. 



H( )RATi(ys Phantasy. 
Genius and her Human Bridegroom. 

Kindred souls are now mnted 

In an everlasting tie, 
Holy vows of love are plighted, 

Soft as summer breezes sigli, 
Sacred hymns are sweet recited 

By the paranymi)hs on high. 
And the chandeliers are lighted 

In the castles of the skv. 



Horatio's history. 175 

They have pledged a maid in marriage 

Far beyond the moon's cold line, 
Now she leaves the gilded star edge 

Of her battlements divine : 
See her wheel her airy carriage 

To a lonely human shrine 
Wliere her flowing robes disparage 

E'en the orl)s that o'er shine. 



■<) thou Heav'n-enraptured lover, 

Who may know thy princely dower? 
See celestial spirits hover 

Round thy home this holy hoiu'. 
Few her silent flight discover. 

Far she leaves her ruby bower ; 
Ah ! the spheres shall bend above her 

AVhen that blossom fills its flower. 



'Oh ! the boon to bless thee given 

Ever more thy bosom nigh, 
Which pure angel corals, driven 

Like the snow-flakes from on liigli. 
Till the crystal l>anks are even 

More than piles a wintry sky, 
i)r the diamond stars of Heaven, 

A\"ould be far too poor to Ijuy. 



17G Horatio's history. 

Long shall be thy fortune spoken, 

Burning tongues thy praise proclaim, 
And creation's woodland oaken 

Re-illume thy fading flame ; 
Eagle plumes bear far the token 

Till the angels know thy name, 
And the pearly panes are broken 

In the glassy house of fame. 



Treasure thee tlie kind caresses 

Groveling man may never know, 
Time's wild storm that sorely presses 

Calm around thy breast shall blow 
Glory's hand will l)raid thy tresses, 

While, in foamings far below, 
Through its dim and dark recesses 

Shall the stream of ages flow. 



Loud shall chant thy choral hym'er ; 

Bright in sunbeams shalt thou lave. 
While the paly moonbeams shimmer 

Or the beacon shines to save, 
When the spherelets glare and glimmer 

On the surging ocean's wave. 
And the stars of time grow dimmer 

O'er the darkness of the grave. 



Horatio's }I[si\)Ry. 177 

Thy trance is broken ; there is icy death 

In every wave of morning's smoky breath. 

The furies are abroad, and hell's profound [crown'd. 

Spumes fortli its demons in their flame-wreaths 

What lights the plunging fires that burn the skies 

And yield mad day ere yet night's curtains rise ? 

Whence speed the death-beaked lightnings on their 

flight 
Thick as the fire-fly hosts of yesterniglit? 
Whence burst the thunders from lorn rock and tree 
That shake the pallid hills of trembling Tennessee ? 

Oh ! rouse thee, warrior, from thy grass-green bed ; 
Its blades are few Ijeside tliy comrade dead. 
Nerve thy awed soul to scenes of pregnant fear, 
(iird up thy loins for life's eclipse is here. 
Before thee winds, in mortal armor steeled, 
A closing host across the quiv'ring field. 
With trij^ping standards and inspiring drum. 
In their ])roud march the hostile myriads come. 
Now cool as rippling lake in summer sheen, 
Now hot as liell's sulphureous magazine, 
(bnfronting tiiousands, sworn to meet and die, 
Melt, like the snow beneath a tropic sky. 
Dark drift the fumes o'er heaven's ethereal Ijrow, 
And ye clouds, where is Horatio now ? 
Where, thou pale sun, see'st thou his spirit soar 
In wider realms than all thy rounds explore? 



178 Horatio's histoky. 

Where, sacred guide, liigli uptliy native dome, 
Do thy rich torches Hght our wanderer home? 

Alas ! Horatio sleeps his long last sleep, 
And none are near beside his corse to weep. 
Ah ! vain, far from liis rest, do loved ones yearn 
To see their absent friend again return; 
Ah ! within his father's cottage wall 
Tliey wait for liim at lonely even-fall ; 
' In vain for him a lowly wreath they twine. 
To deck his brow when battle days decline. 
His brave young life was broken like a reed 
Upon the altar of his nation's need ; 
Like thousands of ( V)hnnbia"s children, he gave all 
That life could promise, at his country's call : 
From boyhood on to manhood's dawning pride 
He lived a patriot, — and a patriot died. 
In some bright land he wears a richer crown ; 
Hds home is sad, his humble star is down ; 
O'er his low grave the summer grass has grown, 
The rains have fallen, and the winds have floAvn. 



ElEx^:^ IL.E1R, 



TO THE READEK. 

Kind reader, if thy leisure yet 

These pages may devour, 
And if the humble board I set 

Partake no savor sour, 
Or, if tbis simple epaulet 

Disguise no hostile giaour, 
Then bask them in the minaret 

Of favor's sunny tx)wer ; 
And while I leave this annilet 

Of words thy paltry dower, 
Thy heart will kindly not forget 

The clouds that sometimes lower 
Nor slight, if thy chaste eyes have met, 

Some solitary flower. 
But if this lowly coronet 

Should cloud thy s})irit's power, 
Forgive the blast that dared to fret 

Her blossom-mantled l)Ower 
With song's mirth-shading silhouette 

Or joy-curtailing .shower, 
And pardon him who liolds in debt 

Thy recreative houi-. 



EL^^A LEE. 

Oh ! there are scenes in human hves 
More sweet than draughts the insect hives, 
More tender than tlie rose's arms 
Around the germ its bosom warms, 
More pure than stars of summer night 
Where seas are cahn and stars are bright, 
More painted than the beauteous form 
The rainbow gives the dying storm. 
And dearer than the clayey nests 
The mourners build above our breasts. 

Oh ! there are hours in lives of men 
We would give worlds to live again ; 
Hours from whose seeming atom-span 
Is fountained all that flow^s in man ; 



182 ELVA LEE. 

Hours, from whose young proemit- look, 
We know the page of Age's book ; 
Calm hours, as ripe as Autumn noon, 
Unshorn as evening's eastern moon, 
Light as the ark that rode the waves 
Whose bosoms swelled with sinner's graves, 
And marked, as marks the nuising eye 
The planet wanderer of tlie sky. 

Those hours, alas! are quickly fled. 
We leave them as we leave our dead ; 
The cold remains of their green prime 
But driftwood on the floods of time. 
Where oft we sail in memory's boat 
To see the wrecks that round us float. 
No more shall bloom the fragile flowers 
Of rosy childhood's vanished hours. 

Their broad sun once above us shone, 
Its light unseen, its love unknown ; 
And once their winds around us grew ; 
Still all unfelt the breezes blew. 
Our life's embattled banner furled 
On youth's green flagstaff of the world. 
Ungarbed in care, unfledged in vice, 
We heeded not our paradise ; 
While plenty in the garden smiled, 
We plucked the fruit of Eden's child. 



ELVA LEE. 183 

And midnight grief and noonday sweat 
Must be our meed through ages yet. 

T]:iere are soft words wo have expressed, 
As downy as the turtle's breast, 
As mellow as the chorded strings 
That give their sighs to zephyr's wings, 
As constant as the hollow note 
That fills the ocean's plaintive throat, 
And stainless as the snowy flag 
That leans on Andes' bleakest crag. 

Tl>ere are harsh words our lips have said, 
That crowned with thorns some aching head, 
That bent the bow and fixed the dart 
Of anguish deep in some fond lieart, 
That, like the clouds in nature's frown, 
Have shot their bolts of sulphur down, 
And, like the soldier's silvery sword. 
Hang o'er some life-suspending cord 
In dread address, aside to cast 
The slender tie that makes it fast. 
And send to seething gulfs below 
Some falling heart as pure as snow. 

There are white thoughts within our breasts 
As continent as angel guests, 
As happy and from danger free, 



184 ELVA I.EE. 

As coral homey Ijeiieatli the sea, 

As high in lieaveii and wide in power 

As Asia's ice-crowned mountains tower, 

And radiant as the solar rays 

Of vernal noons and summer days. 

Some thoughts there are our bosoms bear, 
Dark as the robes the tempests wear, 
As hot as throb earth's pulsing veins 
With poisoned gust of desert plains, 
And strange as sleeping midnight lowers 
With phantom shades and meteor showers, 
Black as the smoke tiiat yet shall spire 
From dying nature's final fire. 
And cold as was the people's doom 
That laid them in their lava tomb, 
When o'er Pompeii's templed woods, 
Vesuvius rolled her reinless floods. 

And there are names our hearts liave known. 

As crystal as the polar zone, 

Engraved in undecaying scrolls 

Upon the tablets of our souls. 

And hued, like clouds, the rainbow o'er. 

Above a world they shade no more ; 

Like echoes o'er the waters wide 

That linger long wlien they have died, 

As gentle as the rustling wing 



p:lva Lp]E. 185 

Tliat swims the air to soar and sing, 
As beauteous as the fruits and flowers 
Of spicy lands and sunny hours, 
And brighter than the diamond shines 
In golden India's distant mines : — 
Unmentioned names, lest we might lure 
8ome sin-l;)lot round their bosoms pure, 
And harshly grate the silent ear 
Attuned to sounds of sweeter cheer. 
Or clip the hours they calmly rest 
In matron earth's unfolding breast : — 
Some holy name a mother gave, 
Seen on the stone that marks a grave, 
And, like the Pleiad, lost in Heaven, 
Leaves now but six where clustered seven. 

There are some hearts our childhood knew. 
As chaste as eve's descending dew. 
Whose by-gone tones as deeply swell 
As tolls the churchyard's chiming l)ell, 
As welcome to life's sunless vales 
As flowery notes of nightingales ; 
More brilliant to the spirit's eye 
Than all the orbs that people sky. 
And richer than the pearly pave 
Of buried gems in ocean's wave. 
Yea, there are hearts around us now, 
Ethereal as Heaven's blue brow. 



186 ELVA LEE. 

And, could we but a moment gaze 

Into their bosoms' starry maze, 

what a universe would shine 

Along the soul-spread azure line! 

Kind hearts through whose deep channels flow 

Some limpid streams we never know, 

Dear hearts whom blood-hound fortunes bayed 

From pleasure's bower to sorrow's shade, 

To whom, although \\ith many a tear 

They call on us, we give no clieer : 

On wliom we turn that look of love 

The carrion bird bestows the dove, 

And cold by whom we heedless fly 

As wintry winds the mvrtles bv. 



Ah ! were we forced by some high powers 
To meet their fate and leave them ours, 
Not thus their breasts would listless heed 
Our withered hopes and weeping need, 
And we should learn in our distress 
The blessedness of those who bless. 
Then could we see what kindness lends 
Of sacred joy to cheerless friends, 
How saintly falls her silken wing. 
All gently as the rains of spring, 
And softly as the ivy crawls 
O'er fallen towers and In-oken walls. 



ELY A l.KE. l.Si 

To sliiniiig hearts that roiiiKl us grow, 
We never pay the debt we owe : 
Their just reward and honest praise 
Are told by those of other days. 
While merit stands within our grasp, 
Our slothful arms are slow to clasp. 
And in the spire of selfish ease, 
The sickly nym])h of pride to please, 
We stretch our lazy limbs along 
The idle couch of wonted wrong, 
Till winter tombs tlie diamond Inid 
That danced adown an angel's blood, 
Till haunted by life's empty glass 
And specter shades of hours that pass. 
We wake from stu})Oi', crazed and wan, 
To weep o'er forms foi-evcr gone. 

More deep than e'er dull soul surmised 
Is grief of worth unrecognized, 
And when compassion comes too late 
How can w^e be compassionate ? 
Like tender seeds in autumn sown. 
E'er yet the flow'ret is outblown, 
The boreal winds of winter blow 
And shroud the bud beneath the snow. 

As bright a smile the morning bore 
As ever broke on ocean's shore, 



18H KiAA m:k. 

And gladdened Natnre never rose 

With so nnieli grace from night's repose. 

The flowers that wooed heneath the boughs 

Had never pledged more holy vows 

Nor formed their army's gilded files 

In sweeter camps and richer aisles ; 

Tlie breeze that came the Avaves across 

Had never worn a softer gloss 

And on the Y\\) of rosy bliss 

Had never stam})ed a sweeter kiss. 

The streamlet with more dimpled grace 
Had ne'er adorned hei' liquid face 
Nor in the morning's twilight dim 
More early sang her native hynni, 
And lingering dawn had never pressed 
With gentler hand lier maiden breast. 
The wood that fringed the water's side 
Spread far o'er earth his mantles wide, 
Aiid, through the boughy fields above, 
Ran, silver like, such streams of love, 
It seemed the choirs tliat gathered there 
In rainbow garbs and golden glare. 
Had strung their lyres on silken spray 
To bless the birth of infant day. 

The suns that rose when Phoebus set, 
In morning's crown were shining yet; 



ELVA LEE. 189 

The clews distilled on midnight's hill 
111 silver pearls were falling still, 
And elfin lips are sipping up 
The nectar from her silver cup. 
Hark ! what approaching step intrudes 
On Nature's peopled solitudes? 
What human foot doth trespass make 
On lonely walk and silent brake ? 
Ere spectred darkness disappear 
AVHi y roams a guideless virgin here ? 

Upon the green-marged, rippless stream, 

Ere slumbering waves have dreamed their dream, 

Ere yet on high the song is heard 

Of rosy morning's herald bird, 

Oh, why upon their banks should be 

The fairy form of Elva Lee ? 

Ah ! gaze, ye gems of damsel dales. 
Of curving banks and velvet vales ; 
Lift meekly each Circean eye 
To see the flower you would outvie. 
To steal new beauties from that face 
And add fresh graces to your grace. 
Chaste stream, lay by that passive crown 
And deftly smooth e thy dimples down, 
Concede to calm unwrinkled rest 
Her image in thy placid l)reast. 



11>0 KLVA LKE. 

Daguerreotype the \-enus Ijud, 
And bear it far on ocean's flood. 
Ye merry bards of summer hours, 
I^riglit flying fields of singing flowers, 
That thousand-hued as richlv glow 
As your companions do below, 
Restrain awhile your music fii-e 
And list a more concordant lyre ; 
The softest lute and siveetest bird 
That ever yet your temples heard. 
Unnumbered in your verdant eaves 
As are your native forest leaves. 
Ye mellow minstrels, swell the throng 
And catch the flow of Elva's song. 

Mai!mei.( )w Stkkam. 

Ye sweet-scented jewels so lovely adorning 

The maidenhood hours of tlie blossoming year, 
Ere night is consigned to the grave of the morning 

I know that you marvel why Elva is here. 
Ye silver-browed ripplets. so calmly reposing 

Beneath the pale robes of the moon's silent beam, 
Your eyelids will ask, at their hour of unclosing. 

Why Elva should wander l)y Marmelow stream. 

Ye silken-robed giants that shnnber around me 

And pillow your heads where tlie night wardens 
rise, 



ELVA LEE. 191 

Your bosoms will query when sunrise liath found me 
Why Elva should sleep 'neath the shroud of the 
skies. 

Ye honey-lyred warblers of sunshine and pleasure, 
Sleep far into noonday your bright-visioned dream, 

Unwaked by the sighs that attend the sad measiu-e 
Of Elva that wanders by Marmelow stream. 

Dear mates of my youth in the years that have faded, 

like spring's early flowers ere the winter be o'er ; 
Oh [ weep not, my comrades, the heart you have shaded, 

Companionless Elva that meets you no more. 
Ah ! sad was the eve that forever we parted, 

That measureless moments may never redeem, 
Where, in your cold feeling, you left lonely-hearted 

Poor Elva that wandered l)y Marmelow stream. 

As wide as the wave of the high-crested ocean 

Was love in the heart that was molded in mine, 
And deep as the river the tide of devotion 

Tliat Elva would roll where his billows recline. 
Ah ! far in the west has my planet of danger 

Long shed on this bosom a sun-setting gleam, 
And night will soon close on a shelterless stranger, 

Lone Elva that wandered by Marmelow stream. 

Before the gently rising blast 

In courtesy stoops the bending mast 



192 KLVA LEE. 

And, like the winds that round her play. 
In silence wends her weary way ; 
P]qiiipped in robes as snowy bright 
As downy plume of sea-bird white, 
And sunny as the azure shrouds 
Above the barges of the clouds : 
As joyous now^ as soaring lark. 
Rides gladly on the rocking bark, 
The playmates of the tinny host 
That chase her on from coast to coast, 
The girthless steed that holds his flight 
Through sunless day or starless night, 
The pliant toy of every breeze. 
The fragile bubble of the seas, 
The water flower of lily hue 
In ocean's wreath of billows blue. 

Within her northern timbers strong 
Is heard the din of shout and song, 
And brightly fly their moments by 
As sunbeams through a tropic sky; 
For future want or unborn care 
No anxious heart is heavy there, 
As rich in gleesome notes and words 
As noisy group of autumn birds ; 
No waking fear or troubled dream 
May roil their flow of pleasure's stream 
(3r turn its tide to mistv falls 



EJ.VA LEE. 193 

O'er rocky beds and broken walls. 
Old dizzy earth her heart may roll 
In anguish round her center pole, 
Or weep until her valleys flow 
With icy tears of mountain snow ; 
No stormy mist shall ride the breeze 
Or dim the sun to shadow these, 
All happy on the pathless foam 
As inmates of some island home. 

Ah, pleasure ! in thy byssine bed 
The thorns of grief are ever spread, 
In thy wide walks of happiest bloom 
Some blossom's breast is garbed in gloom. 
Upon thy smoothest garden gromid 
Some pebbly dust will still be found, 
Within the bowers that shade thy brow 
W^ill always droop some willow bough, 
Along the night's superbest line 
Some distant star will lonely shine, 
And in the festive forest throng 
Some bird is seen that sings no song. 
E'en now above this blithesome group, 
Why should the plumes of sadness stoop ? 
When danger sleeps and all are glad, 
Why should one soul alone be sad ? 
To question why, his comrades come, 
The busy tongue of mirth grows diunb. 



194 KLVA LEE. 

And discord frets to learn the tale 
That glooms the heart of Melvin Hale. 

" 'Along happy walks and flowery wa} s 
Did ]\Ielvin while his youthful days ; 
With lustrous eye and sunny hrow, 
He was not what you see him now. 
On fragrant gales of jubilee 
The morning brought her sweets to me ; 
The holy light I lost so soon 
Was haloed in the blaze of noon, 
The sun that sought his dark repose, 
Less mild than I at evening close, 
The C3^gnet hours I loved too well 
Were light as dews that round me fell, 
The happy stars that smiled on high 
Were not in he.irt so blithe as T, 
The moon on mine with virgin grace 
Looked down to meet a calmer face, 
Pale A^enus sent her earlie.st rays 
To welcome hynms of Melvin's praise : 
And, when on Nature's epaulet 
The shining strings of midnight nK4, 
The waltzing elves, in rampant mirth 
That frolic round our dreamy earth, 
Kejoicing, left their moony shade 
To lay them where my head was laid 
And deemed themselves more truly l)lest 
To share the couch of Melvin's rest. 



ELY A LEE. 195 

"111 childhood vvarmth and sinless glee 

I clasped the hand of Elva Lee : 

We roved the fields together o'er, 

Together walked the silvan shore ; 

We sought the founts and loved the rills 

AVhen spring's green garb was on the hills; 

Our venturous feet were first to know 

The fiowery cheek of summer's snow ; 

When leafy clouds of woodland brown 

Would shake their showers of fruitage down, 

Were she and I the first to sing 

Our anthems to the autumn King, 

The first to find in hungry haste 

The banquet served in nature's taste, 

The first around the board to steal 

And eat of summer's bui'ial meal ; 

And, when the earth in solemn rite 

Put on her garb of saintly white. 

Were we the first in worship seen. 

The first to kiss the crystal queen. 

The first who left our footstep molds 

Deep dungeoned in her stainless folds. 

" Ah ! careless tracks our wanderings made 
Across the flake-embedded glade, 
'Neath falling mist and tropic sun 
Your forms have melted one by one. 
On the cold earth where once vou lav 



190 KIAA LKK. 

No liug'ring trace is seen to-day, 
And, like the things you slept upon. 
Is all your fleecy beauty gone ; 
But oh ! the footprints that remain. 
Where grief has held her rigid reign, 
Where sorrow ran her limping race, 
No beam can melt or mist eflace. 
Ah, would her vestiges to thee 
Were frail as those, my Elya Lee, 
When, in the cofhned long ago, 
Our feet were sliod with flaky snow! 
But to rememljrance still appears 
The footmarks of our younger years. 
While weary memory lives to stroll 
The knee-deep snow-fleld of the soul. 
And recollection's feet remain 
To skate across a frozen brain. 

''When happiness was helmsman made 
Of the gay bark in which we played. 
Or sorrow was commissioned guide 
On childhood's isled and shoaly tide ; 
At night or noonday, dark or bright, 
I wandered not from Elva's sight. 
WheJi grief would play the sherift^'s part 
And put his liandcufls on my heart, 
Wa.s gentle Elva's tiny hand 
The first to break the iron bjind, 



KLVA LEK. 197 

The first who came with mercy's sliears 
To clip the fringes of my tears, 
And lay the remnants angel-blest 
A bandage on my wounded Ijreast. 

" Contentment's landmarks saw tlieir grace 
Reflected from her tranquil face, 
And pleasure's eagles soaring by 
Found eyries in her happy eye. 

"But time drives on through oaks and reeds 

In headlong flight his tireless steeds, 

AVhile every year tliat flies, reveals 

A circuit of Ins chariot wheels, 

And every round, with danger rife, 

( bnveys us up the hills of life ; 

From knoll to knoll he brouglit me on 

To this cold mound I stand upon. 

Companions, do you think we erred. 

That joy should learn a holy word. 

Or deeper age the sleep should break 

Of intimacy's tranquil lake, 

That, tendril-like, our hearts should twine 

Around affection's verdant vine. 

And from the soil of nude regard 

Should spring hope's daisy-spangled sward, 

From friendship's cotyledons low 

The rich white rose of love should l^low ? 



liKS ELVA I.EE. 

" Where'er my fancies might repair 
No bhss grew up were she not there ; 
The deepest throng of gayest mood 
^\'as but a silent soHtude, 
Unless her elfin eyes were seen 
To beam aside the curtain screen, 
Unless her linnet voice would swim 
The billows of some happy hymn. 
Though not a fiower were seen on earth. 
Though not a bird Ijetrayed his mirth, 
Though not a friend for dreary miles 
AVere nigh to light me with his smiles, 
Still when her fairy form was near 
The world was liung with gems of cheer. 
In those glad days I looked on man 
As only truth and nature can ; 
I looked on woman as the all 
That l)less and beautify our l)all, 
Around whose glowing central soul 
Our dizzy hearts, like planets, roll, 
Whose very vices seemed as fair 
As cloudless fields of autumn air. 
Whose smallest worth was magnified 
A million fold the type I spied. 
Because I saw their seedlings ope 
Beneath the magic microscope 
Of thee whom Heaven beatified. 
Dear guardian angel at my side, 



ELVA LEE. \m 

Sweet nightingale of midnight mind, 
And peerless queen of maiden-kind. 

"All ! yoii to whom fond fate bestowed 

The richest pearl of man's abode, 

To whom a cherub took her rise 

That rivaled those of paradise, 

Why could you, in a thoughtless hour, 

See o'er her soul the tem| :e>t lower 

That sundei'ed us so far apart 

And lightninged round your Elva's heart? 

You knew that she was saintly mine 

By all that love could make divine, 

And by the polu' needle-di]) 

Of infancy's companionship ; 

We asked you, prostrate at your feet, 

'J'o make our Eden world complete 

And diadem our queen of bliss 

A\^ith crown of ]^arents' sanctioning kiss. 

"Alas ! that our entreating tears 
Were doomed to tall on icy ears. 
You saw and prized another more 
Than all the truth that Melvin bore, 
AMiile day and night you vainly pressed 
Your child to bless a stranger's breast ; 
Though still you knew the bosom chords 
Kind Providence that pearl affords 



200 ELVA LEE. 

Were set from his afiection's din 

As far as innocence from sin, 

And bis cold heart from her bright camp 

As Neptune is from Nature's lamp. 



" Yon gave me all that scorn could move 
And deemed a foreign love could prove, 
Because of lordlier pedigree, 
A mate more meet for Elva Lee. 
But oh ! the shadow you have cast 
Across the sunliglit of the past. 
The lonesome shrouds whose folds are tiung 
O'er childhood's clifls where once we clung, 
The mourner in your cottage room 
That knocks for entrance at the tomb, 
And sad for her whose woes are mine 
Lone Melvin on the surgy brine ! 
My comrades, do you marvel now 
That grief is castled on my brow ? 

^' My life is like the inttmt rose 

That never saw its leaves unclose, 

Like unhatched egg some rol)in laved 

In far secluded forest shade 

Whose lime-bound wings will never l)ear 

A songster through the wilds of air, 

Nor from whose shell-imprisoned bird 



ELVA LEE. 201 

Will festal note be ever heard ; 
Like Alchemy's full sail of thought 
That never found the port it sought, 
And like the meteor in its rise 
That swiftly sweeps the empty skies, 
But, ere it reach its human goal, 
Must Ijurn away its fiery soul : 
Like flying sparks of ardent fire 
Did all my hopes of youth expire, 
And, like the borealis jade, 
Did childhood's visions flit and fade. 
The mount where my high mark was set, 
Peers far in heaven above me yet ; 
The car of all I once could feel 
Is crumbled to a rusty wheel 
Whose wasted rim of rotten ore 
Will run jour track of joy no more ; 
Like rills beneath a sultry sky 
Did, one by one, my pleasures dry ; 
> My brightest dreams were swept awa}', 
Like vapors on a breezy day. 
And, like the tide whose waves divide 
The Bird and Beast on either side, 
Did life's deep stream in grief's dark wall 
In one broad sheet of sadness fall." 

When Melvin's narrative began 
A joyous race the sky-steed ran, 



202 EI.VA LEE. 

And heaven revealed her sunny face 
From every inch of vaulted space ; 
But vapors gathering deep and thick 
Betrayed a sky whose lieart was sick, , 
AVhile her contortioned brow expressed 
The secret throes that racked her ]:)reast. 
Now, in her fever's hectic hight, 
Her forehead shot electric light, 
And groans of agony were flung 
Incessant from her thunder tongue. 
While death's cold sweat came down in liaS 
As Melvin closed his plaintive tale. 

So dense and dark the waters fell, 

Not e'en a mariner could tell 

The limit line that might declare 

The seas of earth from those of air 

Whose battling billows warfare led 

From Jove's high throne to Neptune's bed, 

While, here and there, in frantic play 

The dolphin lightnings sped their way. 

And, round and round, the sea-barge whirled 

Her storm-dance through a maelstrom world. 

The day king twice had donned his crown. 

And twice had laid his scepter down, 

But buried in the balmy wave. 

The bark saw not the light he gave. 

Still through the tempest's mazy net, 



ELVA LEE. 203 

The weary ship was loihiig yet. 
Now far at last, fatigued and torn, 
The heavy clouds are onward borne, 
And leave unsunk the fragile form 
That cleft the dark, cyclonic storm. 

Ah ! look upon a thousand graves 

Whose mounds are but surrounding waves ; 

Look on tlie cold and shattered wrecks 

The sullen winds and waters vex. 

Are these the homes of jubilee 

AVhdse deep foundation was the sea, 

That rocked in hope and slept in pride 

That danced along a hostile tide, 

And, in the beam of danger's eye, 

Defiance flung to sea and sky ; 

While yet tlie dame that mocked their power 

AVas in her embryotic hour, 

And long ere wife of winds was wild 

In travail with her tempest child ? 

Where are the spires tliat told to thee 

The shifting cities of the sea? 

Where is the shout that sounded once ? 

Will nature's lips give no response, 

Except the solemn interlude 

Of ocean's shipwrecked solitude ? 

Where yonder waves their freight reveal,, 
Lies half submerged a burning keel ; 



204 KLVA I.EE. 

Of lordly man's deep billow plough, 
The only trace that lingers now. 
A single jjlank that burst its tie 
E'roni its red wreck floats closely Ijy, 
And in the ardor of despair 
Tivo fainting forms are clinging there. 
A lone canoe is on the deep : 
From mount to gulf, l^ehold it leap 
Across the unbefriending spray 
To where the drowning sailors lay ; 
And Melvin's hand impels the oar 
From life astern to clpath before. 

Ah ! never yet did woe's appeal 

Upon that soul of love congeal ; 

The f\xintest sigh of heart distressed 

Found echo in his generous breast ; 

The lightest touch of misery's sword 

The armor of his bosom gored, 

And where the storm of grief might l;)urst 

There Melvin spanned his rainbow first. 

The twain that now unconscious float 

Are lifted in his little boat; 

From crest to crest on danger's track 

Jlis oar impels that life boat back, 

And now, his deed of peril past, 

The bark he left is reached at last. 



KLVA LEE. 205 

A hast}' couch is soon prepared 
To shelter those the tempest spared, 
And sympathy's white arm extends 
To them the warmth of stranger friends ; 
While simple arts their stores supply 
Their starless guests to vivify. 
With all the gentleness they know, 
The}^ tease the stagnant pulse to flow, 
And watch with long-suspended breath 
The balanced scale of life and death. 
Now charity's bright smiles go round, 
For rich success their toil has crowned ; 
As to the banquet, kindly spread. 
Approach the slow-reviving dead. 

With brother forms of human kind 

Companionship once more they find. 

Aware of all that late befel. 

They bear their deep misfortune well 

And meekly don the diadem 

That re-existence gives to them. 

l)Ut, while they humbly dedicate 

The sweetest meal they ever ate 

To him who saw their loneliness 

And closed their hour of keen distress, 

They l)reathe a reverential prayer 

For kindred souls that are not there ; 

Bright hearts that, far from haunts of ease, 



206 ELVA LEE. 

8et out with tbeni across the seas, 
Brave sentinels that walk no more 
Their ocean l)eat from shore to shore, 
Above whose bosoms far below 
The corals build their towers of snow. 

On one the sun of life displayed 
Across the field a length'ning shade, 
Where forty years had sped their plough 
Through every sod upon his brow : 
The orb that sent its golden ray 
To light the other's mortal day, 
In heaven's upliended ceiling set, 
Beams in its bright ascension yet. 
From lands estranged in clime and name 
Tlie two ill-fated wanderers came; 
The ships, on which they voyaged, ne'er 
Had shaken off their foreign air. 
Till, sea-besieged and storm-waylaid, 
Their dving hulks acquaintance made: 
The hardy seamen, storm-beset, 
On soil or wave had never met. 
Till, in that fitful hour of dread 
Outflung on ocean's seething l)ed, 
Where struggling with the angry main 
Against the midnight hurricane, 
Amid the dead that round them sank, 
They fostened to that floating plank ; 



ELVA LEE. 207 

From which, though tides and death assail, 
Tliey owe their hves to Melvin Hale. 

Bnt where is Melvin from the throng 

Tliat laizz once more with shout and song. 

As though around each heart no blast 

Of adverse fate had ever passed, 

No storm of grief or cloud of care, 

Had ever wrought a sliii)wreck there ? 

Above the Ijliss tliat round them sings, 

From shroud to shroud his hammock swings. 

This tinsel world and all its train, — 

A gewgaw in the gilded chain 

Coquettish nature strings at reck 

And dangles round her azure neck, — 

Its richness lost and luster dim, 

Ko charm possessed or lure for him. 

His fancy soars to higher fields 

In search of fruits their herbage yields ; 

like eagle to his mountain nest, 

He climbs to solitude for rest. 

And, full of thought and measured words 

As autumn bough with summer birds, 

He turns his soul to themes sublime 

And asks a boon of father Time. 



208 ELVA lp:e, 



Mel VI n's Petition. 

King of ages, King of men, 
King of worlds beyond our ken, 
Haughty, hoary, wrinkled, Time, 
Wilt thou pardon me the crime 
Of a supplicative chime ? 

Though my suit may seem thee cold, 
Though I test thy patience bold. 
Still, if thou canst make delay, 
I have office here to-day, 
Something Ito thee would say. 

Should thy higliness condescend 
Lowly thus to see me bend, 
As I ask but little fees, 
Steals it not thy hour of ease, 
Just one moment, if thou please. 

Years untold their round have rolled, 
And the earth herself is old ; 
Countless kingdoms passed away, 
Legions, millions cast their clay. 
Since thou saw'st thv natal dav. 



ELVA LEE. 209 

Stars have glistened, stars decayed, 
Newer worlds appearance made, 
Bone and muscle, woe the worth ! 
Fertilized the sands of earth 
Since the smirise of thy birth. 

Dark the shades of death were flnng 
Round thy sinews soft and young ; 
High thy planet balls were piled 
On the midnight, wan and wild, 
That creation bore her child. 

When thy matron's tender eye 
Sparkled deep and kindled high, 
When she nursed thy helpless woes, 
Cradled soft thy young repose, 
And her orb of ages rose ; 

When her every care was given 
High to fledge thy soul in heaven ; 
Then she sent thy sceptered pride 
In a mazy chariot ride 
O'er thy blue dominions wide ; 

Placed a gleaming, mystic brand 
In tliy stainless little hand ; 
From her stellar canopies, 
Flung her streamers to the breeze 
On her dark and shoreless seas ; 



210 p:lva lee. 

Ah I she dreamed not of the robes 
Yet to fold around her globes, 
Of the billows deep and wide, 
On whose shoaled and surging tide 
Far and lone tliy bark should ride. 

Loud the cry of grief has rung, 
Gay and festive groups among, 
Since that hour when, oh, sad one ! 
Eden lost and soul undone, 
Adam wailed his nuirdered son. 

Sultry days 'twas tlnne to toil 
Swampy lands and sterile soil 
Round this dull terraqueous glade ; 
Cypress bougli and willow shade 
Mourn the hand that keens thy ])lade. 

Mounded graves in myriad lands. 
Countless as the sea-side sands. 
In all space l)elow the sun 
Where thy cheerless race was run, 
Tell the deeds thy hands have done. 

Ripening ages slowly trace 

In tne furrows of thy face, 

A\'here the flowers of health had blown, 

Where the corn of joy had grown. 

Deep the seeds of sadness sown. 



ELVA LEE. 211 

Lungs tliat served tliy system long, 
Lips that chimed tliy boyhood song, 
Queue, once darlv as skyless night. 
Eyes once, more than noonday, bright ; 
All have lost thy youth's delight. 

Lo! Thy once emblazoned name 
111 becomes thy l)«nding frame. 
Oh ! who dreamed when life began 
Time, himself, should wear the ban 
Of emaciated jnan? 

Ah ! poor form whose ills I see, 

I compassionate with thee. 

I do love all aged seers. 

Love them for their joys and tears, 

And the knowledge of their years. 

I would fain their comfort sing, ' 
Fain to them assistance bring. 
And I plight sincerest vow 
'Tis with honorable brow 
That I make proposal now. 

I have wandered through mankind 
Some more worthy heart to find, 
In the maze of millions gone, 
Than the unassuming one 
Whom thou deign'st to look upon. 



212 i<:lva lee. 

But the mighty host among, 
Thousands more discreet and youn^ 
All engaged in better spheres, 
When the hour of hazard nears, 
Leave for thee no volunteers. 

Thou art faint and flaccid now, 
Age is sculptured on thy brow ; 
Rankling ills the breast annoy ; 
I have thought in thy employ 
Thou might'st need a servant boy. 

Oft I saw, in ])oyhood's days, 
Meadows mown and shaven braes 
That remembrance pictures yet, 
And whose every pace was wet 
With the rain-drops of my sweat. 

Now, thy mighty Mower ! why 
May not even such as I 
Who have felt heaven's breezes fan 
Horny hands and cheeks of tan 
Mow with thee the ranks of IVIan? 

1 have sought seclusion long 
From a world of strife and wrong, 
Friends I loved no more I see. 
Only few will smile on me ; 
Now I ask a boon of thee. 



ELVA LKK. 213 

In the life that I have led 
From my humble cradle Ijed, 
A'^aried was my lonely lot, 
Thousands known who knew me not, 
Those who knew have now forgot. 

Still my kind lias not a form, 
Man or maid, whom I would harm ; 
Yet I deemed my missioix just. 
Once installed to do thy trust, 
Mo^\' for thee where mow I must. 

I will hind myself as thine 

While the rolling spheres shall shine, 

Till creation's lamp is sped 

And eternity shall tread 

In thy steps when thou art dead. 

When the earth will see no sun, 
When her gyral flight is done, 
Thou and I will cease to mow ; 
From our sickled fields below 
To eternal judgment go. 

Sad am I my soul to bind 
To this mole-hill of mankind. 
Sad to stem life's hckle wave, 
And I loathe to be a slave 
In the dungeon of the grave. 



214 ELVA I.EE. 

I will toil and thou niay'st sleep, 
I will sell my service cheap, 
And I pledge in thy employ 
xVll my hopes and all my joy ; 
Wilt thou hire a peasant boy ? 

Ah, the frown that clouds thy sight 
Never 3'et was sunbeamed bright ! 
That same scowl ill-fortune bore, 
Wlien, a thousand times before, 
Throl:)l:)ed my anxious bosom sore. 

Lo ! th}^ flaming answer lies 
In the furnace of thine eyes : 
jVfy sublimest hopes are flown ; 
I must roam the world alone. 
Till by thee mj^-self am mown. 

Hu.sh, thou demon, drown thine ire 
In the floods of thine own fire, 
Thou need'st not thy temper .show. 
Ah, old man, 'tis long ago 
Such a storm I learned to know ! 

Thou art not the first I saw 
Trespass Heaven's holiest law ; 
"As thyself thy neighbor love," 
Is a snow-white carrier dove 
Never sent thee from above. 



ELVA LEE. 215 

Disappointment undesigned ! 
Thou, dark cloud, art not unkind, 
Till the thunders of thy frown 
That the livid lightnings crown 
And the drops of grief come down. 

If I asked of thee, my friend,' 

More, perchance, than thou couldst lend, 

Thy refusal still was all 

That my heart's dismantled wall 

Could defy without a fall. 

I, mayhap, have done thee wrong, 
Yet I planned this meeting long : 
Now dissolve, thou sacred spell, 
That my bosom loved to tell 
To a friend I loved too well. 

Once full blown my hope flower grew ; 
Thee, my liege, and hope, adieu ; 
When I make my peace with men. 
Offal in the earthworm's den. 
Thou and I shall meet again. 



Once more with cloud, and fire, and blast, 
The trembling heavens are overcast ; 
The angry seas, in their despair, 



21 () ELVA LEE. 

Meet hand to hand the troops of air; 
The storm that rocks from shore to shore 
Is prince of all that reigned before, 
While thousands swell in foam-piled graves 
His churchyard kingdom of the waves. 

Now, darkly closed his fearful reign, 
The monarch seeks a new domain ; 
His heart is weak, his face is wan, 
His courtier winds again are gone. 
But where on Neptune's wide abode 
Is now the bark that Melvin rode ? 
Ask of the gust that boils the wave. 
The sea-god in his sullen cave, 
The whirlpool roar and billow shock 
From gulf to gulf and rock to rock ! 

A little skiff with iiumans three 
Winds its lone way across the sea : 
'Tis that same boat that once before 
Two dying forms from danger bore ; 
The helpless crew that rode her then 
Compose her cargo once again, 
And, pushing on through foam and gale, 
Her oarsman still is Melvin Hale. 
Two tedious days have trailed their robes 
Across the ocean's martless globes ; 
Three ling'ring nights of weariness 



ELVA LEE. 217 

The stars looked down on their distress, 
And deep within their bosoms clasp 
The savage claws of famine's grasp. 
No longer now the cords of life 
Defy the edge of hunger's knife : 
One sacrificed, devoted breast 
Must be a martyr for the rest. 
By all agreed, one heart must bleed 
Upon the altar of their need, 
In destitution's sullen den 
Be dainty food for fellow men. 
Beneath the gems of night's dark zone. 
The lot is cast, the die is thrown. 
And sorrow turns her languid eye 
On who may live and who may die. 
Oh, hide thy face, thou crescent pale. 
Read not the doom of Melvin Hale! 

Once more the trembling die is cast 
On sea's green sheet of waters vast. 
And all await with fevered breath 
Whose task must be this deed of death. 
'Tis he, on whom the sun of time 
Sends down his rays of summer prime. 
On whom life's orb of day's high hill 
Shines in its bright ascension still. 
The steel that soon his blood shall stain 
From Melvin's belt is drawn amain ; 



218 VA.XA LEK. 

The senior sailor takes the brand 
And lays it in his comrade's hand. 

" Though this poor frame is not thy foe, 
Strike deep and sure the fatal blow ; 
The kindest cut that thou canst give 
Is that which bids me shortest live," 
And Melvin folds his arms at rest 
Upon his pale, but cheerful, breast. 

The youthful seaman heaves a sigh, 
Then turns to Heav'n his planet eye : 
" O (lod ! is all I feel a dream, 
Is such a fall in life's black stream. 
Can this mad heart dare such a deed 
As make my own redeemer bleed ? 
Heaven ! rain do^vn thy tears on me 
And quench this Hame of agony ! 
Thou thrice accursed and icy steel 
Whose coldness in my heart I feel, 
Thou crimson fiend, thou death-clad brand, 
What dost thou in my jialsied hand? 
Go, go, far hence, thou shining slave. 
And serve some monster of the wave. 
Do thy dark war 'mid centaur bands, 
Thou hell-lmilt tool of human hands." 
AVith more than strength of mortal Avrung, 
The broken l)lade was wheeling fiung. 



ELY A LEE. 219 

But ill the elder sailor's breast 

The sword of hunger deeper pressed, 

And feebleness at last had shot 

Its missive through a fatal spot. 

He moved his tongue to say good by 

And stretched him in the boat to die. 

He raised his eyes each form to scan : 

" My comrades," said the dying man, 

" If fortune yet will smile on you 

And flowery shores 'tis yours to view, 

Should some sad form of human kind 

Enquire for one they cannot find, 

Who, questing his alloted queen 

To climes unknown and lands unseen, 

Had left forlorn, far off to roam, 

A peaceful vale and happy home. 

Inform them, wlien their li])s invite, 

Beneatli the seas my bones are white ; 

But, ah ! may Heaven attend that maid 

When 'neath these waves my limbs are laid. 

May blessings bud and bloom for thee, 

Where'er thou art, sweet Elva Lee." 

The last faint words were scarcely said 

Before the suffering man was dead. 

The tameless birds of wild surprise 
Spread their broad plumes in Melvin's eyes. 
In one strange hour he saw the chief 



220 i:i>\'A i.KK. 

That captiiri?d all hi.s hoyt^ of grief, 

The inlet to his lake of tears 

That Howed from dark departed years. 

A thousand falling glanees storm 

Upon the stranger's silent form ; 

Eaeh comrade kneels and Ijreatlies a i)rayer 

For kindred souls that are not there. 

His feeble mourners hasten through 

The last kind ofHce they may do; 

They lay him on the rolling wave, 

And soon he tills his ocean grave. 

Wants l)ended how and twanging string 

Still speed the shafts of hunger's king ; 

One victim is already laid 

'Neath foam flowers white of sea's green glade: 

The dew of death is falling now 

Upon his young companion's brow, 

And faintly swells the feeble voice 

That once made nature's self rejoice. 

" My comrade, kind and dear to me, 

A parting prayer I breathe for thee ; 

My thanks receive for that cold hour 

Thou snatched'st me from the mermaid bower 

Whose foam-glossed leaves of l^illows green 

Outsnow the coral trunks they screen ; 

May Heaven direct thy toiling oars 

To once loved scenes and sunny sliores, 



ELVA LEE. 221 

And when my face thou shall behold 
All bleak as night and wintry cold, 
Ah ! let no shade of grief descend 
To cloud my lone, surviving friend, 
But lift me from my fragile barge 
And give my corse to Nature's charge. 
Heave no sad sigh and shed no tear, 
But lay me on my billow bier : 
Through all the ills that late befel, 
I said no word but knew thee well ; 
I saw thy form in better days, 
My lips ere now have sung thy praise, 
And, lo, my Melvin, take to thee 
Tliis dying hand of Elva Lee ! " 
Her closing lips entombed her breath, 
And her true heart was cold in death. 

In tearful mood of tenderness 

And look of love's wild loneliness, 

All snowy }>ale he stood before 

The seraph heart that beat no more. 

The power of worlds may never roll 

The rock of sadness from his soul : 

But l)y the sweep of sorrow's gust 

Above affection's marl)le dust, 

A thousand times i]i phrenzy bleak, 

He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. 

Then j)lunging in his s])irit's tide. 



222 KL\A LK]0. 

lie couched him by his Elvii's side ; 
There, in his bosom's hilled relief, 
He knew no niore of earth and grief. 



Along the tlo(«r of yon l)lne sky . 
A timely l)ark was shifting ])y. 
They found the sailors numl) and chill. 
But coals oflife iii Melvin still. 
'Tis now compassion's gentle task. 
In mood aftectionate, to bask 
A creature's woes in kindness' sun, 
As once poor Melvin's self had done. 
Dark hours pass on, and all their art 
Scart-e warm the current in liis heart, 
AVhile wasted li])s and temples pale 
Unfold his long and troubled tale. 
Once more in sleep his limbs recline. 
Ere scarce he sung the closing line. 
He reached to take his Elva's hand 
And clasped it in the angel's land. 

AVith sadness in their deepest cores 

They bore his clay to foreign shores ; 

Far by the ocean's restless wave 

They spread his shroud and dug his grave, 

And lowly lies — all lonely — he 

That won the heart of Elva Lee. 



MELCHA'8 MISSION. 



To my life-long friend, James W. Carney, of Chicago, III., whose just discrimination 
as 2 critic, whose patriotic devotion to the beautiful, but unfortunate, island of his nativity 
— a scene in the history of which, is here portrayed, — as well as whose taste and appre- 
ciative familiarity with English literature, I have intimately known, the following composi- 
tion is most respectfully inscribed by the author. 



" 'Tis dreamy to drift on the l)lue-bosomed ocetui 

Whose tremulous waves rolling steadily on. 
Like pilgrims in ranks at their silver devotion, 

Are but the bright tombs of the years that are gone; 
On the snow-Avoven wings of the limitless ages, 

Like a dove in the a/Aire, far downward to soar 
And |)ereli on the l)ranch which our fancy engages 

On some long molded tree that may flourish no more. 

"And ah ! in the phalanx of eras and nations, 
Where tind we another more flowery than thee, 

Least noticed, most favored, of God's sweet creations, 
Fair evergreen queen on thy throne of the sea ? 

Ireland! to-day, though thy prospects be lowly, 



224 mklcha's mission. 

Tliough the stranger and foe may but scoti' at tliee 
Yet, who regrets disatiectioii should solely [no\\\ 

Begrime every spot on thy lily-like l)row'.'' 

" Oh ! is there no bud in the vale of compassion 

To relieve thy blank spring of monotonous wrongs? 
^lust charity's self from tlie rain-clouds of fashion 

But yield thee the droppings of sighs and of songs ? 
Why droop'st thou before us, disconsolate maiden, 

And laughingly gaze on the gra})e of relief, 
So far 'l)ove thy grasping? AVhy so art thou laden 

^^'ith millstones of l)ondage and shackles of grief? 

'■ Ye leaves of mankind in the land of the stranger 

That l)Uoyantly spangle on liberty's trees, 
Perceive ye afar the black meteors of danger 

That burst through the ribs of the winds and the seas ? 
And mark ye no stings in those hisses of warning 

Will plunge at the feet that are crushing' them soon ? 
Vesuvius once frowned in the kingdom of morning, 

But Avh ere were the magnates tliat mocked lier at 
noon ? 

"A swarm of brave warriors have l)attled on paper 
And shed the last drop of their ink-l)lood for tliee ; 

But whose is the hand that shall seize the dread taper 
And wreathe thy proud mountains with tlames of 
the free? 



melcha's mlssion. 225 

Many a lonely and sad separation 

Fulfilled its dark end in thy emerald clime, 

And many a scar of thy long desolation 

Is mapped on the silver-white l)osom of time. 

" From thy gardens and meadows so gemmed and so 
sunny, 

Within thy loud sea-walls encircled, embraced, 
For cent'ries thy children have gathered the honey 

Themselves and their dear ones were never to taste. 
Like the leaves on the aspen that hang but to tremble 

Before the chill breeze of a curse or a frown. 
Round tlie corpse of thy glory in tears they asseml)le 

And hide from the ghost of tlieir fathers' renown. 

" Confiding and chaste, 'twas unkind to inveigle 

And fetter thy soul and to fence in thy breath, 
Poor perishing dove in the grasp of the eagle 

And fondling his claws in the frenzy of deatli. 
Can nothing extract from tliy heart the rude arrow 

That cunning and treachery shot in thy side 't 
Thy lane of oppression is basely too narrow 

For even the slave to whom all is denied. 

" The fruit that depends from thy l)OUghs of endeavor 
But crumbles to ashes while feasting the lips : 

Can it be thou art set in the shadow forever 
Or lost in the realms of eternal eclipse? 



226 mkf-cha's mission. 

Glemi the moss from thy sorrow : with spirit iiii(|Uail- 
Mount into thy ark, for victory's wings [ing 

Aro the Ijillows it floats on, and ])rnne thy bewaihng 
O'er tlic pknulerod Laigh-fail of thy vah:)rous kings. 

"In tlie cycles long gone it was once a sweet fever 
Among the scholastic, the good, the letined, 

The infidel sage, and tlie idol believer. 

From Rome to the pigmiest conrts of mankind 

To visit thy homes of religion and learning- 
New (piarry to seek in the })arks of thy lore : 

Now far to the ends of the globe, nineturning. 

Thy children are sli]»ping in fleets from thy shf)re. 

" Pretensionless all are thy dreams tliat outnnmber 

The star-figured hordes of thy own ( iadel-Glas : 
Ogygia is l)lack with the fetters of slnmber 

And heeds not the snake, thougli he hiss in the grass. 
Alas ! thou art weak, and thy slimy oppressors 

Pro])ortionate })leasures still coin from thy pains, 
And thou art content at the heels of aggressors 

To stalk the proud earth in a cassock of chains. 

"There is ])oison at work in the blood of thy morals, 
There's a lie in each thread of thy l)ard-woven rann ; 

Else why art thou pillaged of lil erty's laurels, 
And wherefore so cramped in so trivial a span ? 

Is it true, as a nation, no more will thev trust us 



meu'Ha's mission. 227 

\\lu) have woni every trait that belongs to the 
Ijrave ? 
There may still be a day for the reign of Augustus 
When a stabbed uncle sleejjs in the mold of the 
grave. 

" AMiat dungeon hath frozen the generous leaven 

That planted the heat in thy forefathers' fires? 
Look into the gold-molded windows of Heaven, 

The question propose to the shades of thy sires. 
Beliold how tliey sneer at the banner that dims on 

The gilt and the sheen of thy bulletless guns 
And the cheeks of those sires in their mitres gi-ow 
crimson 

That manhood forsakes their ol)sequious sons. 

" There's a cloud overshading thy chivalrous spirit ; 

Thou art not to-day what thou wert long ago; 
Since the stranger is here and his swords disinherit 

Thy gray-templed lords for his temples of snow. 
Has the razor of conquest the tliroat of thy glory 

So mortally gashed, it is never to heal ? 
Oh, could the blind future but checker thy story. 

The hour of dissolving thy destiny's seal ! 

" Poor bondsman at toil on that flower- vested island, 
What strange consolation must })rance in his soul 
To think of liow manv a waterv mile and 



228 mki.ciia's mission. 

How inuny a death-feathered billow may roll 
Between him and the friends of his bosom departed 

From realms where each monarch once dyed his 
own Ijrand; 
Thy noble and gentle are left vacant-hearted, 

While the ]>anper, it seems, is thei^rinceofthe land. 

'' lerne, the ])lamage those monarchs ])araded 

When thou wert a kingdom of diamond and gold, 
Like the scepter they wore and the laws they invaded, 

Not, ])erhaps, soon again is it thine to l)ehold. 
Still the weeds of defection are sometimes adorning, 

There is often a talisman wombed in a tear; 
Fi'om the night that is blackest may ])lossom a 
morning 

The brightest that ^its in the crown of tiie year. 

" In the eye of that Being who ever disposes 

Some cog of decay to the ])rondly secure. 
An ii'on-clad built from the leaves of the roses 

Of ])assive contentment might shelter the ])ure. 
('om])lainingless, haply, to follow our duty 

Is all we perceive through the dro})S in the eye, 
Till the rainl)Ow shall arch in ]\vr I'adiance of beauty 

When the cloud of oppression is dead in the sky." 

King Malaclii we})t o'er his crum])liug dominions. 
And often he ])ausc'd in his troul)led refrain 



mkiaha's mission. 229 

To tempt a new hue on his colorless pinions 

And swim o'er the breeze of despondence again. 

Of 1 lis bosom, he paced through each transept and 
chancel ; 
He baited each pleasure and challenged each art 

For a philter that yet might efficiently cancel 
The scorpion's sting in his agonized heart. 

" My crucified country," the monarch proceeded, 

" Unharness my soul from its chariot of clay, 
In eternity's pastures to roam unimpeded 

And cure the sore thought of thy early decay. 
When the full moon of freedom shall marshal her 
allies 

And Tara resmile in her ribbons of joy, 
When the green buds shall snow far along thy gay 
valleys, 

Perhaps thou wilt mourn an undiademed boy. 

" Tlie lord of these kingdoms whose weakness dis- 
graces 

The confidence lost in his coronal bride 
Will little regret to be tombed in the traces 

Of valiant successors that diet th}^ pride. 
My blood of ambition grows livid and falters 

At every dim inch of its wearisome flow, 
And my spirit would worship at factionless altars 

Where never a cypress of carnage shall grow. 



230 mklciia's mission. 

" AVas tliy star of niislbrtiine in dizzy asceiidence, 

AVlieii populous evils were teeming on high 
And the tortuous viper in gaunt independence 

From the mast-head of pestilence trailed intliesky? 
My soil-shrouded fathers, is this the sad issue 

Of cliiefry like yours your descendant beholds, 
This pallor-lipped reptile, this hlood-spotted tissue 

That darkens the land with his cumbersome folds? 

" Must mine be the ottice to reap the red Harvest 

That tyrainiy's deep-chested seasons have sown, 
Or Initton around me the steel-braided war-vest 

Till tlie wild hornets l)uzz o'er a tenantless throne? 
Oh ! could I l)Ut clear this tempestuous weather 

That blackens my In'ain to its iciest pole, 
These multifold aches that are digging together 

A liighway of death through the Alps of my soul ! 

" Far sweeter would be the imperial disbursement 

Of all I possess, if my envy could steal 
From recalcitrant fate an eternal inmiersement 

In the neighborly billow that coffined O'Niall. 
My })ilgriniage kingward was toilsomely dreary: 

I rule a proud monarch and serve a base slave, 
A conduct so clieerless, a' splendor so weary, 

1 hate the dead beggar who reigns in the grave. 



melcha's mission. -I',)! 

" My lieart at this hour's a disastrous Pharsaha 

Where hope ])y the thousands have perished in vain ? 
The insect may bask in liis native regalia 

From petal to boll of his joyous domain : 
For the king of his country no rush of complacence 

Will nod in the breeze o'er the crocodile's nest, 
And nothing outlives s<ive the smoke of a s])ray ?»ense 

Tliat covers with bubl)les the sea of his l)r('ast. 

" Too grievingly nari'ow the I'oute of evasion 

AVithout the kind thouglit of some heavenly guide, 
Between the bleak Scylla of tem|)ting occasion 

And Charybdian shoal of an imbecile i)ri(l('. 
Alas ! it is sad that a fabulous sibyl 

Should l)light the rich buds of a blossoming mind, 
And sorrow's shrill lungs find a key in the treble 

Of passions unfeasted and conu'ades unkind. 

"Oh! liow many would sli]) from the icy ascension 

That winds to the turret of barren renown, 
Could they see but the were-wolf's unvirgin })retension 

xVnd the congregate ills of a kingdomless crown! 
Heaven grant me some guard 'gainst the scorching- 
invader ; 

Let the knife in my soul cut a way through its 
crust, 
Let me hide from the smile of the fawning upl>raider 

And be king of the worms that rejoice in my dust." 



232 melc'ha's mission. 

A blank in his manhood, a leaden depression, 

A wealth of such thorns as make glory accursed, 
Were the only concomitant gifts of possession 

That jeweled the scepter of Malachi I. 
Turgesius, the chieftain, the tyrant, the stranger, 

Had coiled round his country a cancerous chain. 
And his land, an asylum of discord and danger, 

Was lost in the sea of the on-rolling Dane. 

The conqueror lolled in the gloss of his palace 

Serenely exulting o'er deeds he had done, 
And kissing the lips of his red royal chalice 

Heaped high with the symbols of victory won. 
" My fame," said the soldier, "is ripe to contentment ; 

Not a clog now remains to my pride undestroyed, 
No more is there left that should feel the resentm'ent 

My foes dearly know I have ever employed. 

" I have planted my heel on the neck of the nation 

Whose concjuest allured me so widely from home 
Till she grew but one sheet of supreme desolation 

And her fields and her vineyards are red with her 
foam. 
I have swept, like a tempest, adown those dim moun- 
tains 

Across her green bosom outstretching afar, 
Have flooded her valleys and spotted her fountains 

With the hot, salty paint of the palette of war. 



melc'ha's mission. 233 

*' I could sigh for the land that incessantly gnashes 

'Neath agonies, keen as the steel of her knights, 
And tremblingly kneel at her altars of ashes 

Where the serpent-tressed fury at midnight delights. 
There's an ache in my pulse when I note the re- 
searches 

The landmarks require of the grand and the good, 
When I see the black ruins usurping the churches 

That once here in matchless magnificence stood. 

^' But ill would it laud a descendant, like Odin's ; 

To lower the battle-dyed flag of the Dane, 
And the spot I would choicest secure my abode in's 

Where princes' last life-blood has deluged the plain. 
I would not coquette with conjectural causes 

To justif}^ one of my manifold schemes ; 
In the grammar of carnage I find the true pauses 

That grace tlie last words of a conqueror's dreams. 

" I would stiffen my cheek with the starch of assur- 

A deadening drug on my tenderness pour, [ance. 
Till mercy in vain should assail my endurance. 

While the edge of my sword is the god I adore. 
Not a point in the circle from confine to center 

Of human-spun passion may pass me unsummed. 
Nor a silken emotion successfully enter 

The virtue-proof shell of a conscience benumbed. 



234 mp:i>ciia's mission. 

" The lord of this island were womanly silly, 

If the beams of compassion converged in his throne. 
And why should I query to spare the last lily 

That grows in the valley to whiten alone? [ter, 

I have long kept an eye on the monarch's trim daugh- 

And proudly resolved that the conquest were mine, 
Though an army of princes devotedly sought her, 

To lure her where only my passion should shine. 

" In my strife-chequered life through a thousand wing- 
ed dangers, 

In regions surrounding and countries afar, 
I have made many friends and subdued the rude 
strangers 

That launched their last plank on the ocean of war. 
I have kissed many lips; I liave seen many faces, 

Have basked me in many a paradise smile ; 
But meagre their merit, and humble their graces 

Compared with fair Melclia, the queen of this isle. 

" I have danced with the belles of fair Sweden and 
Norway, 

Have shared every gift it was theirs to bestow : 
Not a meteor that shone in that cupid-gilt star-way. 

While Melcha should live, would I care to re-know. 
By some unrelinement each heart-snare seems laden 

That filches their beauty and blackens its glow : 
Hibernia's blooming, unparalleled maiden 

Is white in her love as the new- woven snow. 



melcha's mission. 235 

" I cannot know why, but I cage a suspicion 

That chirps in my bosom with dungeonless glee, 
And which, w^hen reflection inhibits its mission, 

Requires of me what may my destiny be. 
In her each attraction that nearest 1 cherish 

Embowered in perfection I deem I behold ; 
For her might a commonplace universe perish, 

Who cheaply were bought for a planet of gold. 



" I will ask the gray king to design me a favor, 

Will dive to the dregs of the homage he pays, 
x^ncl, maugre the boldness of which it niay savor, 

Demand his sweet daughter to gladden my days. 
It will pinch his old heart that his haughty subduer 

Should steal the love-rose of his desolate home, 
But the sails of his life, waxing dimmer and fewer, 

Must shortly be reefed 'neath the grave's grassy 
foam. 

" I care not a rush for his soul-stabbing sorrow, 

I care not a straw for the tears of iiis age : 
If there be but one pleasure my passion may borrow, 

'Tis mine, though it cost a young life to assuage. 
The pang, I presume, he will censure severest, 

The floodgate that frees the last wave of his woe. 
Is that she, whom he held of all prizes the dearest, 

Must be the vile toy of his bosomless foe. 



236 mkix'ha's mission. 

" Oil ! will it not shake from his hyppish delusion, 

In cataract awe, an effeminate king, 
When he shall discover, through clouds of confusion, 

The arrow of insult that hangs in his wing? 
Away with these r^uibljles, why stoop I to quarrel 

With troublesome guards of my conscience's wall ? . 
Why idly disport with this mouse of a moral, 

Or sprinkle a pleasure witli inickles of gall ? 

" Determined am I in the rank of advances 

To fly the first colors my fancy may weave. 
Despite the mischances and, sometimes, the lances 

That sprout in the heart-beds of those w^ho deceive. 
This virgin, deficient in amorous uses, 

Shall gorge the long blank of a cardinal need. 
Shall furnish the luxury beauty produces 

Where high-fronted riot untethered may feed. 

" This holiday eve will T call at the mansion 

And wait with my errand upon her proud sire 
To sliow liim the tide that his seamed soul must 
launch on, 

The aUar that smokes where his heart must expire." 
Turgesius repaired to the halls of the cypiier 

That filled the vague breast of the king of a land, 
Demanding the favor that climaxed his life, or 

Threatening the vengeance his tyranny planned. 



melcha's mission. 237 

" King Malachi, health, benediction, and greeting ! 

So much of such gauze as a chieftain may bring, 
I humbly bestow thee, to season this meeting." 

" In welcome, Turgesius, thou visit'st thy king, 
And every sweet magnet my island possesses 

That lures thee one moment a guest to my board, 
Like yellow-eyed jewels, shall peep through the tresses 

Of languid contentment, new-faced and restored. 

" Thou knowest but seldom the bright tires of Baal 

Are kindled to cheer o'er a hypocrite's shrine ; 
Still need'st thou not seek a defenseless betrayal, 

While thou art a guest at this palace of mine. 
It is hard to be mild 'mid my many oppressions. 

And joyless thou deemest my mission must be, 
A scepterless lord in my frowy possessions. 

Extending so cordial an ave to thee. 

" Thou hast heard, I assume, how the sons of these 
valleys 

Still welcome the stranger with smiles and with 
cheer. 
Although he but coins them the serfs of his galleys 

And shipwrecks each hope in the surge of tear. 
Now here in my home, as my guest, shalt thou wander, 

The master of all that to me may belong ; 
The reception I yield thee be warmer and fonder. 

Than though thou hadst never designed me a wrong. 



238 melcha's mission. 

" Hospitality shines like a star over Erin 

And warms every Ijosom that throbs in her land, 
While the foe, with the friend, may equally share in 

The flowers she can glean from her poverty's strand. 
It flows from the heart of the pauper thou spurnest, 

As free and as pure as the streams of a spring ; 
Not alone to the lowly, but tow'ringly earnest 

It opens the breast of her scepterless king. 

" Believe me, I weep for my glory departed, 

And thou art the rust that hast gnawed it away ; 
Yet here in my castle shall dance sunny-hearted 

The moments that measure ni}^ conqueror's stay. 
The hour was a dark one that brought us together, 

An evil simoon for my country and me ; 
But we friendlily look for some cleverer weather, 

And may we not hope it will circle from tliee? 

" Too often, alas ! is the sword of the soldier 

An i^egis of blood from the deed he achieves. 
As cold as the snow at the death of the old year 

And heartless, thou know'st, as its frost- withered 
leaves. 
But thou art not cast of such granite-grained metal, 

And tyrant's not writ in the page of thy face ; 
So feast we to-night, and to-morrow shall settle 

The feuds that o'erclothe us with grief and disgrace." 



melcha's mission. 239 

^' Thou art courteous, sire, and a gratitude surely 

I own that I owe thee too deep to repay: 
I beheve thou bestowest deceitlessly, purely, 

The honor I share in this holiday way. 
And, indeed, the respect thou evincest, to-morrow 

May look for the rise of a better reward 
Til an harsh disappointment or nettle-clad sorrow, 

Though these are the verdiu-e may bend o'er the 
sward. 

"Thou hast never denied me tlie lightest indulgence 

That I have besought from the roll of thy gifts; 
Thy senile submission emits an effulgence 

To which, like a moth, my gray vanity drifts. 
Thy conduct translates thee as readier ever 

To grant me a fayor than any to ask. 
And I will not frown on the ster'lest endeavor 

That tempts thee anew to some palateless task. 

" Now, sire, on this niglit thou hast manifold duties 

That beckon thee towards them to harness and share, 
And fain would I riot among the gilt l;)eauties 

Alone as they flit in their vacuum of care. 
Go thou on thy errands ; another complexion. 

Another vignette will be set upon mine : 
I would chirrap awhile in the boughs of afl'ection 

And kidnap from cupid a draught of his wine." 



240 • mklcha's mission. 

•' Enjoy thee, Tiirgesius ; may fortune environ 

Thy spirit with hope on the path to success, 
Though pleasure is oft but a treacherous siren 

That magic'ly hires to her deadly caress. 
Thou'rt welcome, indeed, to stroll unregarded 

Through every pasterre that my palace affords ; 
On thyself hangs the risk that marks thee rewarded 

With fringes of peace or on arras of swords." 

" 'Tis well, my kind king, and farewell for the present. 

I would glide, like a fish, in the aquarium of joy 
That sparkles alike for the lord and the peasant 

Whose bosoms are clean from grief's briny alloy. 
He is gone, troubled man, and I can not but pity 

The evils that 'round him descend in such showers; 
His heart must bo filled with a populous city 

Of ills that, like snakes, are concealed in its bowers. 

" But sorrow, like autumn, grows cold on our spirits 

When hope, like the summer, is locked in the past ; 
Life's fruit, as it ripens, grows bitter, inherits 

A nature diverse from the seeds we outcast. 
All men and all women are equally sharers, 

And each wears a garment he clips from some grief ; 
Deep i\Tinkles, gray temples, but slow standard-bearers, 

That stamp the battalions where woe is the chief. 

" His winter i.-? dark'ning. Sire Malachi shivers, 
A blanched, shrunken leaf on the twig of decay : 



melcha's mission. 241 

No haruspice needs he whose foreknowledge dehvers, 
' The kmg is almost at the-end of his way.' 

I doubt not my hour o'er the mystic horizon 
Of sallow dejection will open at last, 

That my chance of defeat or of victory lies on 
The grain of the reefs where my anchor is cast. 

"But while the sun shines with encouraging bright- 
ness, 

Let sorrow, the owl, l)rood afar in the shade ; 
No lead shall be hung on my heart in its lightness. 

No feather must ftill from my harlequinade. 
Though the hour-glass be flowing, the dark cloud be 
growing, 

Tlie worm be at work in the strength of tne oak. 
Let fancy all glowing, her favors bestowing, 

Still laugh at the snow of seignurial smoke. 

" What a magical damsel is Malachi's daughter, 

So plaguily witching and zealously sweet ; 
Too justly may languish the many who sought her 

And foinid their reward in the fen of deceit : 
For who that is mortal could hope the encagement 

Of such a capricious and exquisite dove. 
The trivial triumph and easy assuagement 

And conquest of such a vast kingdom of love ? 

" The sire and the child ; oh ! what vivid complexions 
Of opposite types do these beings afford, 



242 melcha's mission. 

The zenith and nadir of contrast affections 

That tremble unmeasured from hfe's jarring chord. 

How spritely the one, and how dully the other, 
Move on to that ferry they never repass ; 

The one is a willow whose gloomy boughs smother 
The pink on the edges of pastime's crevasse. 

" The one is a bud on the Ijlossom of summer. 

Bright as the branch of her chrysalis days : 
The other, a time-piece whose beating grows dumber 

Before the pale power of her chemical rays. 
The one is a new-fitted, blemishless vessel 

Rocked on the brow of her satellite wave ; 
The other, a meteor descending to nestle 

Within the black depth of the rudderless grave. 

"All welcome, gay lady. Fair JNIelcha, good morrow. 

'Tis rapture to gaze on the rose of thy cheek. 
'Twere pity that ever the frost-work of sorrow 

Should flaunt its cold flag from a leaf so unique. 
Approach, lovely woman ; nor would I eschew thee, 

Though princesses vied to aftbrd me delight; 
The wealth of the world would be less than is due thee, 

Bright sun of the noon-day, and star of my night. 

" Sweet bt^ the tide of our converse together. 
And gay the refrain of the carols we sing ; 



melcha's mission. 243 

Let us skim the black gloom from the brow of foul 
weather 

And melt the cold winter to gems of the spring : 
For, while I am with thee, the tempest may thunder, 

The snow may descend till it throttle the sea, 
But naught shall avail in their fury to sunder 

The love that enchains me forever to thee. 

" I admire thee, thou swan of this beautiful island, 

Beyond a degree that soul may confess : 
How poor are the charms of the beauties of my land, 

Compared with the virtues of her I address. 
There is gold in thy feathers, sweet bird of the moun- 
tain, 

I sinfully envy another to own ; 
T})ere's a treasure asleep in thy undefiled fountain, 

For which I Lave pined to be fisher alone. 

" My heart is a priest at thy grace-covered altar, 

No conge would deign to the fiat of Rome ; 
And the psalms I select from affection's own psalter. 

Like doves flutter forth from the ark of thy home. 
O Melcha, I love thee ! 'Twere a weak adulation 

In one who beholds thee, admires, and adores, 
To crown thee the first of the bright constellation 

Of feminine circles that shine from those shores; 

"All-beauteous rainbow o'erspanning the sadness 
That hangs, like a shroud, over manv a land. 



244 MEJ.CHA's Mlt^SION. 

Thoii'rt fairest, meseems, in thy stationless gladness 
For tlie drops and the cloud-palls from which thou 
art planned. 

And, Melcha, thou rainbow, thy country o'erarching 
Beneath the dark sky of a conqueror's throne ; 

I admire thee the more that the death-tick is marching 
So fast o'er the cloud whence the silver hath flown. 

"As a flower of the Alps, which the odorous breezes 

Can never disturb in- her setting of snow ; 
Yet, in the cold blast that her bare bosom seizes, 

Blooms fair as the cream of the valleys below : 
So thou art a bud on the bosom of sorrow [clime, 

That peers, like a tower, through the haze of thy 
The dearer and richer, because thou dost borrow 

No charm from thy kindred to garnish thy prime. 

" I have watched from afar in thy garden of duty 

The flowers thou hast i)lucked for thy frost-templed 
sire, 
And never disputed the laurel of beauty, 

'Mong all its wild gems, to the queen I admire. 
Now, lady, I ask thee to sluire the dominions 

Turgesius hath painted in gore with his sword, 
More broad than the eagle may circle his pinions, 

And as grand as earth's greatest hath ever explored. 

" No empress of time can compete Avith thy splendor. 
Can vie with the power T will shower upon tliee ; 



melcha's mission. 245 

The globe has no treasure I will not surrender 
To my pure damask rose of the gem of the sea. 

My pine-pinioned seabirds will plough the dark ocean 
To do the least favor thy heart may require ; 

Thou shalt be my one object of life's long devotion : 
Oh, calm the weird notes of a conqueror's lyre ! " 

" I scarcely divine thee, m}^ country's invader, 

Thou hero of many a war-darkened field. 
Bold, triumphing, conquerless. island-crusader. 

All vainly to whom, have brave armies appealed. 
Now thou ask'st a poor favor, the pallid affection 

Of one wdiose pale heart was but destined for woe: 
Wouldst bear me away from paternal protection 

To orgies and banquets I care not to know ? 

" My heart-broken father I can not leave lonely 

Till his dim setting sun of existence go down ; 
I must bide with him kindly, and ever, and only. 

To soothe his sad soul for a kingdom's lost crown. 
I thank thee, brave chief, thus to flatter the spirit 

Who dreams that her future can never be bright, 
Who is born, she believes, at the least to inherit 

The grief of her sire and the gloom of his night. 

"Thou wouldst not, indeed, think so high of a maiden' 

So withered in spirit and lowl}' as I ; 
So comfortless, cheerless, and manacle-laden, 



246 melcha's mission. 

That, as soon as her father, is ready to die. 
So lustrous a warrior my destiny never 

E'er dreamed to bequeathe me for happiness here ; 
O chieftain, brave chieftain, would I could ever 

Expect through this life any mate but a tear ! 

'•Success be long with thee; let others enrapture 

The heart that so darkly my country o'erthrew : 
My esteem and affection thou never canst capture, 

Bold scourge of my kindred, Turgesius, adieu ! " 
" But, Melcha, thou knowest that mine is the fiat 

Could limit thy life to a gossamer space ; 
Thyself and thy sire I could destine to die at 

The loop of the gallows, and stained in disgrace." 

''And is it gallant to bethreaten so coldly 

A desolate girl your proud hand would obtain ; 
Or is courtship a trade that is harrowed so boldly 

In this island of ours by an amorous Dane? 
Sometimes, a vast kingdom might suddenly crumble ; 

Before thy hot weapons, like dew, may depart ; [ble, 
But thou canst not reckon how oft thou mayst stum- 

Ere thou art enthroned in a woman's pure heart." 

" Sweet lady, believe me ; I would not dismantle 

Such joy as seemed most to be fitting to thee, 
Though entreaties should come from the best of my 
band till 



melcha's mission. 247 

Tlie tide from their lips filled the Suir to the sea ; 
For thoii art too sacred in my fond opinion, 

From any department to feel any thong, 
And, so long as this heart has a motion, no minion 

Of navies or armies can do thee a wrong. 

" No regret shall e'er darken thy cherubic spirit, 

Sweetest flower of the blossoms that whiten these 
vales, 
Thyself shalt enjoy and thy children inherit 

Whatever the world may transport with its gales. 
Thy father, thy friends, and thy chosen companions, 

Shall liave a kind home with their monarch and 
» thee : 

My charity's bough will be broad as the banyan's, — 

Oh, come witli thy kindred and harbor with me ! 

" How gloomily now comes thy snow-crested father, 

I'll ask him the favor thou seem'st to refuse. 
For I know thou wouldst wed with ihy enemy rather 

Than decline for an instant the lord he would choose. 
How fares it, brave king, since the hour of our part- 
ing ? " 

" Turgesius, as well as I truly desire, 
Receiving my friends and good-humoredly thwarting 

The embers, still glowing, of liberty's fire. 

" For, though but a slave who was once a commander, 
How can I forget the bright days of the past. 



248 melcha's mission. 

When memories still, like swift brooklets, meander 
Through the sunshiny scenes where my fortunes 
were cast ? 

And, even in pleasure's own garlanded wildwood, 
With all the dear peace it could bring me to-day, 

My mind stretches back to the season of childhood, 
When my heart was in bloom and my country was 

gay- 

" Not happier then were the birds in the bushes 

Bright decked with bouquets b}" the fingers of 
spring — 
The sweet little robins, the linnets, the thrushes — 

Than was the young soul of that long-ago king. 
The lambs on the hill-sides in all their gay gambols, 

The trout in the brooks, and the sheen of the sea ; 
The fawn in the woodland, the finch in the brambles^ 

Not blither, nor freer, more thoughtless, than me. 

" 1 watched the' great sun, as lie rode in the tourney 

Of azure-mailed day or the helmeted year ; 
Sympathetic I mused on his measureless journey, 

His conquerless sweep over darkness and fear ; 
And, in silence, I vowed to pursue his example ; 

Wherever the tide of my destiny flowed 
To deluge the foeman, and ruthlessly trample 

Th' invader, or tvrant, that darkened mv road." 



melcha's mission. 249 

Then spoke not Turgesius, but sullenly muttered, 

The blood of his pride rankling hot in his cheek, 
*' By the gods of my country whose names now un- 
uttered, 

I call on, old grumbler, thou shalt \)e more meek. 
The lands which thou mournest, the realms thou hast 
cherished, 

Must descend ever more unto me and to mine ; 
Nor will I desist, until she shall have perished. 

Disgraced and dishonored, the pride of thy line." 

Proceeded the king, as if mournfully musing, 

" Majestic, and modest, and silvery, moon, 
I have watched thee far up in the firmament cruising, 

Like a sail on the sea, in the night's silent noon ; 
And I thought how, like thee, when my life should be 
over, 

When history's tale should be told of the brave. 
My name, among many, should many discover 

To shine down all time through the night of the 
grave. 

" But, alas ! 'tis not so. M}^ fate hath outrun me 
And kingdomless left me, shorn bare of my power ; 

The evils of life, in their might have undone me 
And left me alone but a mendicant's hour. 

The ambition, that once so divinely I treasured, 
Now^ sleepily nestles wdthin these old bones ; 



250 melcha's mission. 

The arcli of my life can be never re-measured, — 
Its ruin, a mass but of cinders and stones. 

" thou lamp of the heavens! in majesty rolling, 

So genial, so faithful, so bright, and so grand, 
Thou gladd'st one, indeed, thy high nature extolling 

The virtues that shine in the sons of my land. 
And thou meek-eyed, pale maiden that shin'ston my 
palace 

O'er all the bleak vales of the night's stilly waste ; — 
The daughters of Erin, though bitter their chalice, 

As bright as thou art, and as meek, and as chaste. 

" Pardon, Turgesius, an old man's digression : 

My mind waxes feeble, as well as my form. 
And trebly I feel the cold blast of oppression 

That tosses my heart, like a leaf, in the storm : 
Nor does selfishness play any part in my sorrow ; 

'Tis not for myself that I nourish such grief. 
But for my kind sulyects, long destined to borrow 

The slave's poor rewai'd through the fall of their 
chief. 

" Oh ! that life should be checkered by such an excres- 
As sadness or failure, those twins of decay ; [cence 

That the substance of being is but evanescence, 
That yesterday's smile is the tear of to-day, 

Had I never been cursed with the care of dominion, 



melcha's mission. 251 

Never been perched 'bove the plain of mankind, 
Never have worn the proud conqueror's pinion ; 
This evil to-day could be light on my mind. 

" There's an hour in our being when fortune is shining, 

A place for the rainbow, a place for the cloud, 
A cause for rejoicing, a cause for repining, 

A time for the cradle, a time for the shroud, [leys,. 
Til ere are mountains, and hills, and balm-scented val- 

And far-reaching dales in their trappings of bloom, 
Vicious volcanoes, and sin-begrimed alleys, 

The dance, and the feast, and the blush, and the 
tomb. 

" The ivy dotli creep o'er the wrecks of ambition, 

We anchor a throne with a sand-stranded rope. 
We cling to a weed o'er the gulf of sedition. 

And the owl hoots alone in the ruins of liope. 
The wild foxes pla\ in tb(^ halls of that spirit 

Once thrilled witli the lions of knighthood and power; 
The moth, and the bug, and the blind bat, iidierit 

The palaces built in prosperity's hour. 

" We chase the rich l)utterHy ujt the rough mountain, 
And reap the reward of ephemeral gauze ; 

And fetally come, like a fawn, to the fountain 
And feed on the grasses to find them but straws ; 

We are victors to-day and to-morrow we perish. 



252 melcha's mission. 

To-day shining gold and to-morrow but dross; 
We hail a dim phantom we frantie'ly cherish, 

But some alchemy changes the crown to the cross. 

" We pierce the deep skies, like the pine of the forest, 

Above the low stature of commonplace men, [sorest, 
But the tempest doth sweej) 'gainst our l)osoms the 

Till broken and splintered, we bow down again. 
Though we soar to the stars with the wings of the eagle, 

To the earth, as our home, we are doomed to return, 
Though we rush o'er the meads with the speed of the 
beagle, 

At last we must halt at the goal of the urn. 

"As a ship in the seething and turbulent ocean. 

With the treasure of toil and humanity stored, 
Engulfed in the wild billows' boiling commotion. 

So fare we, at last, by adversity's sword. 
The heart has its ills, and the soul has its fevers, 

More potent than burn in its casement of clay ; 
The serpents that hiss have their votive believers ; 

The great and the lowly must finish their day. 

" The temple will fall and the tall tower will tumble 
And vacancy reign in the mist of a throne ; 

The stars will decay and the universe crumble, 
And nothing be left, save their Maker alone. 

Turgesius, thou'rt young, in the flush of thy glory; 



melcha's mission. 253 

Like the green earth abroad.in the June of thy strife ; 
Oh ! let not the ever-monotonous story, 

'He rose, but he fell,' be the book of thy life. 

" I can wish thee no wrong ; and I harbor no malice ; 

Thou'rt valiant, and worthy, and noble, and wise ; 
Thou'rt mild to the fallen to sweeten their chalice, 

And these are high traits I can never despise. 
I can live out the day of my feeble existence 

Till the dagger of death be transfixed in my heart ; 
And, when, like a spirit, he appears in the distance, 

I can lean on my couch and serenely depart. 

" I ask thee no favor ; the boon I now treasure 

Is calmly to pass from this prison of earth ; 
For me is no more of the world and its pleasure ; 

But, eternity ! come with thy w^elcomer worth. 
Though the conqueror swoop from his home on the 
water 

His thirst of dominion in gore to assuage, 
Dear Melcha, my patient, affectionate daughter, 

Thou art all I require to embellish my age. 

" I have watched thee a nurseling in infancy's weakness, 
Have proudly indulged thee through childhood's 

career, 
Have looked with pure pride on thy maidenhood 

meekness, 



254 melcha's mission. 

And joyed in thy smile throughout many a year ; 
And now that misfortune's wild Ijeasts have assailed me, 

I rely upon tliee in my drearisome hours [}^^^, 

To comfort gray childhood ; when all else hath failed 

Thou wilt pluck out the nettles, and gather the 
flowers." 

• " Yes father, thy Melcha, can neyer forget thee, 

Her guardian friend through so many a day ; 
A motherless infant, thy poor Melcha met thee 

Unconscious of her that was calm in tlie clay. 
And now while I liye, I shall deem it a duty 

That no human power may erase from my heart, 
Despite the allurements of jewels or beauty, 

To play the fond role of a daughter's true part. 

'■ I remember thy deeds in the days when they flour- 
ished, 

When all thy high aims were but centered in mine. 
And the fondness for me, so earnestly nourished. 

Restitution demands, and shall eyer be thine. 
Often, when sadness beclouded my vision. 

Like a vapor far off in the tremulous night. 
To leaye me in error; thy kindly decision 

Removed the dark burden and set me aright. 

" When sickness and sorrow ivere perched on my pillow 
Like sentinel demons in scorpions dressed, 



melcha's mission. 255 

Thou didst lean o'er my breast, like a l)i'eeze o'er the 
billow, 

My anchor of peace in the haven of rest : 
And how could I leave my paternal protector 

To buffet disease and misfortune alone, [tar, 

Though secure through my life of joy's crystallest nec- 

A palace, and peace, and a totterless throne ? 

*' The aid I can give the^ is pale in complexion 

Compared with tlie love I have shared in thy home ; 
Though small is the mete of thy daughter's affection, 

Thou shalt rest thee, till death, 'neath its sheltering 
dome. 
Thou forgott'st thy own griefs to enhance my young 
pleasure ; 

And, now that the shine of thy glory is o'er, 
Let Melcha console thee till time and the measure 

Of earth and its ills shall disturb thee no more." 

*' 1 thank thee, sweet daughter ; but thou must be w^eary 

For sitting in sighs in this chamber so long : 
I would not that thou shouldst be evermore dreary ; 

Go seek thy companions and join in their song. 
Turgesius and I will discourse of the nation. 

On the scenes that trans})ire on this evergreen isle ; 
And each in a way, as beseemeth his station." 

" As says my dear father. Good bye for a while." 



256 melcha's mission. 

"Malachi, when, ere thj' years were so yellow," 

Sneeriiigly queried the chivalrous Dane, 
" Was the summer as bright or the autumn as mellow 

As now they are seen in my merciful reign ? [ance ? 
Did the fields yield such harvests of hope and abund- 

Were the orchards as luscious and rich to behold ? 
Was there ever then known such a boundless redund- 
ance 

Of plenty and peace, or of jewels and gold ? 

" It is true that my laws may Ije framed with some 
rigor 

To tally with those whom my destiny rules, — 
Obedience, and manhood, and spirit, and vigor. 

The lessons they learn in the foreigner's schools. 
And, while I inherit a conqueror's scepter. 

No evil mast press its cold cheek on this land ; 
In prosperous kelter I ever have kept her 

And with the new years shall her glory expand. 

" On the brink of thy life ; thou art welcome to shelter 

Beneath the green boughs of security's tree : 
In the beams of despondence thou need'st not to welter 

On this wave-circled isle in thy jail of the sea. 
Turgesius will guard thee, as wert thou his brother, 

Will piece out thy comfort and solace thy grief, 
Respectfully treat thee, designing to smother 

Remembrances sad of a once victor chief. 



melcha's mission. 257 

" Though mhie is the conquest, existing forever, 

Of all the rich fields of thy former domain, [deavor 
'Gainst my throne, like a pillar, the wild waves' en- 

Of complaint and sedition, I treat with disdain. 
I laugh at the futile and imbecile trial [their limbs ; 

Of those who would shake my rough chains from 
But from me thou shalt carry no icy denial. 

Till the planet, at last, of my destiny dims." 

'' I deserve not, Turgesius, such civil behavior 

And did not expect it, at least, from thy hands ; 
Nor seek I, my victor should turn into savior 

Of all that is left in the wreck of my lands. 
Nor will I look out on my fortune so blindly [mine ; 

As slighting the ])oon which thou say'st may be 
The pure consolation thou ofier'st so kindly 

In me 'twere unmanly to-night to decline. 

"Yet rest from the world, its rebukes, and contention, 

The modest division I only require ; 
It were weakly in me to depend on thy pension 

For the notes I must wake from humility's lyre. 
I would dwell all alone, like a pine on the mount-iin, 

To muse on those follies my fancies beguiled, 
When manhood and youth stood elate at their fountain 

xlnd plucked at the bubbles that dazzle the child. 

" I would bask in the rays of contented seclusion 
Awav from mv kind and their cancerous cares : 



258 melcha's mission. 

I am weary of life and the specious delusion 

That fills its bright fields with an autumn of tares, 

To retire with my child far away from tlie Ijustle 
Of trouble, and toil, and concupiscent man, 

Is all I desire ; and to shut out life's rustle, — 

And to hide in the grave at the head of my clan." 

" Ex-king, it afflicts me to see tliee so broken, 

The fox has a forest wherethrough he may roam ; 
The felon, a haunt where his gibes may be spoken. 

Wilt thou be an exile within thy own home? 
The hare sleeps at ease in his haw-blossomed hedges, 

The doves cuddle close in the summer-day boughs, 
The bittern is happy within its rank sedges : 

Why hast thou sucli cause for thy meaningless vows ? 

'' But though that thyself wilt be still melancholy, 

Thou canst not, indeed, hold thy daughter to share 
In the rigorous confines of thy austere folly, 

And pine in her bloom, 'neath thy fardel of care ? 
The young love indentures to cloudless enjoyment ; 

A title to dance, and to feast, and to sing. 
And may ever be bred to a better employment 

Than liarvesting sighs in the soft days of spring. 

" Thou lovest thy Melcha too well to enchain her, 

Endungeoned with thee to an abbess's life, 
When there are so many would gladly maintain her 



melciia's Mie^sioN. 259 

111 the sacred relations of mother and wife. 
Oh ! cliaseoff the phantom that fluttereth o'er thee, 

And teach the base dream that its taunts are defied ; 
Abohsli this gloom, like the millions before thee, 

And give me thy Melcha herself as my bride ! " 

" Turgesins, thou canst not, thou canst not, be earnest, 

This is the acme of madness's scheme. 
Of all my harsh fortunes this last is the sternest, 

Or is it the waking of misery's dream ? 
I mean thee but kindness wliere thou art suspicious 

That evil is hatched in the soils of my heart. 
I ask thee but mildly, and nothing malicious 

Shall thy bosom disturb, or its cheerfulness smart. 

" Thou wilt not go down in the gulf of my spirit 

To root up such peace as might there find a berth. 
I have never so sinneti that at last I should merit 

The outlaw to rol) my sole comfort on earth. 
]My last refined solace thou aim'st not to plunder 

From the bosom of him so ingrained in his child ; 
I can not believe that this bolt and its thunder 

Is candidly shot on a mission so wild." 

" I will cover thy IVIelcha with jewels and luster. 
For thee and for her build a castle of gold, [er, 

And surround her with pleasure that brilliantly clust- 
Till even thyself wilt l^e proud to behold. 



260 melcha's HUSSION. 

Of her joys and her peace will I heap up to the meas- 
And hasten to cherish her slightest desires; [ure 

I shall hold her a prize and regard her a treasure, 
More grand than my scepter, my lands, or my sireS.'^ 

" Tliou must not expect me to yield thee my daughter 

As a heart-broken toy for thy amorous bands ! 
Why perished she not in tlie merciless slaughter 

That buried my yeomen and deluged my lands ? " 
" But she shall be queen of my manifold legions ; 

Her fame through the world shall be spoken afar, 
Through tliose realms I })0ssess and the unforseen re- 
gions 

That I yet shall o'er sweep with my engines of war." 

" Thou canst not, Turgesius, witli canning persuade mo 

To part with my child for the wealtli of the world." 
" Then, Malachi, king ! by the spirit that made me, 

Thy pride from its throne shall be ruthlessly hurled. 
Like locusts, once swept o'er thy haughty possessions 

The swords that yield only allegiance to me ; 
And the same sullen force will compel the concessions- 

Thou idly clesir'st in thy lowly degree. 

" Mine will be Melcha in spite of thy madness, 
As sure as the sun moveth on in its course : 

Then yield the frail thing, with a seeming of gladness, 
Ere death doth thyself and thy daughter divorce." 



MEL( iia's mission. 261 

'^' If, Targesius, the fates must so sorely unbend mo, 
Ere my child to dishonor and shame I consign, 

I ask thee one gift, and its grant will defend me 

When unfriended and sad must my loneliness pine" 

"Thou sbalt have thy request, whatsoever the color, 

Except that thy Melcha must fall to my arms, 
For the glow of the topaz and diamond were duller 

Then the sheen of her soul through her fetterless 
charms." 
*" Turgesius, 'tis this : Let our Melcha discover 

Among her companions in pastime and youth, 
But fifteen sweet maidens to smile on her lover, 

In whom she may pride for their beauty and truth. 

•" For Melcha is meek ; and 't\vould illy become her 

Alone to embrace thee or share in thy sport. 
With maids of her choice 'twill l)e rapturous summer 

And frantic enjoyment for thee and thy court. 
But, lest that the world should scoff at the story, 

Let them enter thy castle through some hidden door, 
And cover thy heart with the peace-plated glory 

That nothing is known when the revel is o'er." 

''^ Thou say'st it, good father : so richly deserving 
The gem which thou hast in the love of thy child, 

At that door of my palace, no being observing. 
When the stars of to-morrow are shiningly mild, 



262 meu'ha's mission. 

Wliere last tliou hast stood I will meet tliy l)right 
daughter [bring; 

And the fair young companions her fancy may 
And nothing shall lack of the land or the water 

That graces the taste in the feast of a king. 

"Brave ex-lord of Erin, good niglit for the ])resent : 

The chariot of morning is drawing full nigh." 
"Turgesius, goo:I night. We may meet when the 
crescent 

Will sometimes le dim in the vault of the sky." 
From Malachi's castle the invader departed, 

His bosom filled full of imagining's themes, 
And retirees to his couch, in his deeds happy-hearted, 

T' enjoy the fruition of vanity's dreams. 

" Is it thou, my di-ar Mclcha, thy tired father seeking, 

Wlio come-; to his chamljer at tliis lonely hour? 
My brain is bedizened, and wildered, and reeking 

Witii thoughts that the strength ot my heart over- 
})Ower. 
The tyrant, Turgesius, that tiend of oppression, 

Hath set his foul heart, like a leech, upon thee; 
And he swears thou shalt be his own rightful pos- 
ession." 

" Even so, my dear father, he hinted to me." 

"And let it be, Melcha, as he would desire it ; 

1 would humor once more at thy own j)riceless cost 



melcha's mission. 263 

This beast of the iiortli, since the fates so require it, 
To restore the l)right phimage of hberty lost." 

" Thou knowest, my sire, I will do as thou deeniest 
To be for thy daughter the worthier part. 

If I can assist that his friend thou still seemest, 
Oh! spare not the pangs of a sacrificed heart." 

" True comrades fifteen I will choose to attend thee, 

On whose loyal escort thou well niayst rely. 
With these to his revels this eve must thou wend thee, 

So soon as the sun lias abandoned the sky. 
My spirit will swoon at this cruel descending, 

But we may not wage Avar 'gainst the fiats of fate." 
" I will do as thou bidd'st me, whatever the ending. 

And, as soon as the star-light, will knock at his gate." 

The day hath o'erpassed and the eve-star is glowing; 

There is one unit more in eternity scored : 
The banquet is high and the wine cup is flowing 

Among the gay clnefs of Turgesius's board ; 
And fifteen brave lords of his clans are invited 

To partake of the feast their proud master contrived, 
Each with the prospect supremely delighted 

T' enjoy his sweet maid tliat will soon have arrived. 

" 'Tis time they were come for the evening is waning. 

And I grow impatient," Turgesius said ; [maining 

" There will scarce be enough of the dark hours re- 



264 melcha's mission. 

T' indulge the wild whims, of this holiday bred. 
List, my companions ! Heard ye that drumming, 

Like the patter of rain, on the outermost door? 
By the honor of knighthood the virgins are coming ! 

I will fly down to meet them with welcomes galore. 

" Sweet Melcha, good-morrow. I knew thou wouldst 
please me ; 

Th3^self and these fair ones are welcome to night. 
May the ills of all evil immortally seize me 

If aught shall be lacking that kindles delight. 
But come to the hall where tiie banquet is royal, 

Where the chiefs of my kingdom and potency wait, 
Gallant, and noljle, and princely, and loyal, [mate. 

And where each of these ladies may choose her a 

" Lo here the l)old heroes ! Kise, captains of danger, 

To honor this princess of Malachi's isle [stranger, 
Nor appear these meek maidens more distant, or 

That never before have you basked in their smile. 
Sit down, merry Melcha, in calm self-possession ; 

Partake of this banquet for thee and for thine : 
Let joy have no limit, nor mirth retrogression 

And spare not the sparkling bright goblets of wine. 

" The wealth of the world were miserly slender [land, 
To bless thee, sweet nymph of this sea-cinctured 
And naught is too costly and nothing too tender 



melcha's :\iission. 2G5 

That pleasure may give to thyself and thy band." 
*' Brave chief of these chieftains, too richly and kindly 

Thou greet'st the i)Oor bridesmaids who gather with 
Oh ! let not affection betray thee too blindly [me. 

To gild o'er a creature unworthy of thee." 

^' Thou'rt brilliant, sweet girl, as the sunshine in heaven, 

And as warm as the glow of Promethean fire ; 
But 'tis meet that our banquet with passion we leaven ; 

And is it not time that we all might retire?" 
*'I think so," said Melcha. Then rashly advances 

Each hero, selecting a dame to depart, — 
But mark the dark issue of pleasure's mischances, — 

That instant each chief is impaled to the heart. 

Those maids that with Melcha came here in seclusion, 

The stalwartest knights that her country could 
bring, 
Arrayed in her toilets of richest profusion ; 

The beardless athletes of a kingdomless king. 
Like a wolf from the jungle, the northern invader 

A captive is led from his mansion of pride : 
King Malachi welcomes the savage crusader 

And th' heroic child that is safe at his side. 

The dark night is passed and the morning is dawning, 
And the wide world smiles 'neath Apollo's kind glow ; 



266 melcha's mission. 

The mast-head is high, and the blue waters yawning 
In passionless silence are playing below. 

Turgesius, farewell to thy life and its story ; 

Thy triumphs and conquests are evermore passed ; 

And, a moment still dreaming of passionless glory, 
He is flung, like a beast, from the crown of the mast. 

Jlis blood-thirsty hordes have a leader no longer, 

Like insects they flee to their boats from tlie strand. 
Now, monarch once more of thy kingdom, all stronger,. 

Hail, Malachi, king of the emerald land. 
And Melcha hath wrought, by a weapon of beauty 

With virt'ue alone as her adamant sliield. 
What thousands on thousands in soldierly duty 

Hath perished in vain to achieve on the field. 

Erin, green island ! Forever remember 

The deeds of thy sons in the days that are gone. 
Thy memory. May ; let no sullen December [won . 

E'er rol) thy proud names of the robes they have 
Time will be keen with thy bards and thy sages 

And much be denied that thy children recjuire, 
But wreathe through the vista of forthcoming ages 

Green garlands for INIeleha, her maids, and her sire. 



INTEMPERANCE. 

I 

Intemperance! Thou art my theme,. 
And while thy treacherous, fitful gleam 
Shall light me through thy cavern cage, 
And lead me on from stage to stage. 
My heart will sigh, my brain implore. 
That the unsavory task were o'er. 

I look upon thy boundless sea 
And all the world so gulfed in thee, 
On struggling millions now afloat 
O'er all thy waves so far remote, 
That scarcely can I comprehend 
My dark beginning or dim end. 
Where far around the tempests blow 
And hideous specters come and go, 
AVhere rocks on rocks are ghastly piled, 



268 IXTEMl'KKANC'K. 

AVhere days are fierce and niglits are wild, 

But illy can my soul conceive 

What most to shun, or l)est to sheave ; 

While lightnings fall and cloud-wreaths hurst, 

Where 'tis most meet to anchor first. 

Intemperance, thou dragon vile I 
Inveigling with thy painted smile, 
From mankind's moonless flow and ehb, 
New victims to thy deadly web ; 
Thou hungry harpy, fierce, uidvind, 
That steal'st the last cruml) from the blind. 
E'en as we read in Grecian lore. 
Thy namesake did in days of yore. 
When from Phineus gaunt and gray. 
She plucked the meager meal away ; 
Thou snake-tressed gorgon, grim, alone, 
Transforming hearts to sapless stone, 
That once were tender, soft, and meek, 
As is the rose on lady's cheek. 
Thy brow, with hideous vipers curled, 
Doth scowd upon a peaceful world. 

Because thy vision cannot plan 
New^ sorrows for the tribes of man. 
Because thou canst not add one more 
To those already gone before, 
One single drop to the dead sea 



INTEMPERANCE. 269 

Of reeking human misery, 
Corruption's frowzy tide to swell, 
One victim more to guide to hell, 
Because thou canst not chill the cheer, 
Because thou canst not heap the bier 
A mountain more nor add one birth 
Of torture to the groaning earth. 
Because thou canst devise no art 
More Ijlack to pinch the human heart 
More sort^ly than thy reign hath done 
In every zone beneath the sun, 
Thou rankest scourge of human kind. 
Thou seem'st at last despair-inclined ; 
Protrud'st thy sting at Adam^s race, 
And chafest in thy halting place. 

Like to the leaves upon the trees. 
Uncounted, are thy devotees. 
And numberless as summer flowers 
The victims of thy witchcraft powers, 
Where'er one goes o'er all the lands 
Behold recruits for thy dark bands. 
The old, the young, the spruce, the gay. 
The honored being of to-day. 
The bright-robed worshipers of truth, 
The prize of strength, the hope of youth. 
The witching wound of cupid's dart, 
The cultured nnnd, the gentle heart, 



270 INTEMPERANCE. 

The wise man's haunt, the gentle bard, 
The surpHced servant of the Lord, 
The white-haired sigh, the infant breath. 
The helpless agony of death, 
The speaking eye that knows no guile, 
And maiden's grace, and woman's smile, 
Are blighted in thy evil glance 
And ])oisoned Ijreath, Intemperance. 



Thou stalkest through the crowded town. 

The lonely heath, the heather brown, 

The peasant's home, the castle's walls, 

The pauper's' liut, the lordly halls. [courts, 

Through schools, and temples, and through 

With equal zeal thy form disports. 

O'er prairie vast or valley low. 

In summer's sun or winter's snow, 

On mountain high, or modest dell, 

Thou weavest still thy deadly spell. 

Above the ocean's angry roar, 

And on the sea and on the shore, 

Through clustered forests and through bowers, 

The blossoms, or the April showers, 

The poor man's walks, the seats of wealth, 

The haunts of competence and health ; 

Go where we may, or where we will, 

Behold thy l)lighting presence still. 



INTEMPERANCE. - 271 



II 



'Tis wintry night. Fold close the door. 

The mountain rihs of earth are sore, 

And nature hides her ghastly head 

In those white sheets her nymphs have spread. 

There is to-night a hollow tongue 

In the bleak jaws of nature hung : 

And, hark ! the echoes that are cast 

O'er all lier temples wide and vast. 

Oh, what a shrill divine! How loud 

He preaches from his pulpit cloud ; 

Of terror forged for those below, 

How deep and darkling is the flow. 

It numbs the souls and chains the sense 

To hear this awful eloquence. 

Along the sky some panther prowls. 

Hear how he chafes, and how tie howls ; 

Some hoarse-lunged warbler of the air 

Is coining notes that mock despair ; 

The very wind that fills his bill 

Doth make the seal of Greenland chill. 

Ah ! truly, 'tis a savage night. 
Wild winter stalks abroad in fright. 
He throws his heels at such a heat 
His rider scarce can keep his seat ; 



272 IXTKMPKHAXOE. 

He asks no cairb where he may roam ; 

His nostrils whiten witli tlieir foam, 

And fling full far o'er tower and town 

A fleecy inundation down. 

Home lavish hand commands the key 

That locks thy store, immensity. 

The snow outvies that lofty flower 

Which grows an age and blooms an hour. 

Indeed, I deem the mad buffoon 

Is tirmly bent to hedge the moon ; 

And when the new to-morrow comes, 

When this loud night hatli stilled its drums. 

When sullen Phoebus sternly pleads 

His charioteer to yoke liis steeds, 

The diamond slaves that prance for him — 

Though deep of lung and lithe of limb — 

Despite their pride and strength, I trow, 

Must founder in those piles of snow. 

'Twill cover ere Aurora rise 

The starry pines that prop tlie skies, 

As one by one to midnight creep 

The silent hours of ])hantom sleep. 

(3'er all the frosty fields a])Out 

The flaky waste is widening out, 

Foreshortening by some degrees 

The stature of the giant trees, 

And every moment swells the store 

A fraction richer than before. 



INTEMPERANCE. 273 

Here at the mercies of this storm 

Lies locked in death a luiman form. 

These drifting snows have filled his eyes 

And from his brow shut out the skies. 

There are no friends, no kindred, near, 

To fold his hands or drop one tear 

For him whose souls they do not know 

Went out with life beneath tlie snow. 

No hand was there to bathe tlie Ijrow, 

So rigid, and so glossy, now. 

When death transfixed that heart once warm, 

He had no comrade, save the storm. 

Why by the side of yon cold stone 

In life's proud prime sleeps he alone ? 

Against the elemental fight, 

All homes are closed, all fires are bright ; 

E'en the wild wolves by cave and creek 

This bitter night a shelter seek. 

Poor, lost, dead, thing ! Thy hour is o'er ; 

Thy blood shall course thy veins no more. 

Thou mad'st to-day too free with wine. 

And leav'st thy life at Bacchus' shrine. 

All wildly didst thou riot, revel. 

And dauce and banquet with the devil, 

AVho lead thee wide from paths of good 

And tluis repaid thy hardihood. 

Not far from where thy cold corpse lies 

Peer through the storm two tear-dimmed eyes, 



274 INTEMl'EKAXCE. 

Wide o'er the wild and snowy lea, 

That never more shall welcome thee. 

The fragrant meal is long prepared 

Thou hadst with her so often shared. 

A blazing fire is on the grate. 

Wh}^ dost delay ? 'Tis getting late. 

There in her glad, angelic way 

Thy little child is still at play. 

And wond'ring what should papa keep, 

The night so cold, the snow so deep. 

Poor innocent! Her life shall miss 

Forever more a father's kiss. 

Thy child an orphan, and thy wife 

A wreck upon the reefs of life, 

Tliou sleepest, heedless of tlieir woe, 

And tearless, in thy banks of snow. 

Thou hadst a fireside warm and gay 

Where thou couldst read and thou couldst pray 

How truly ])lest would be mankind 

If all, like thine, a home could find ; 

Each daughter, wife, and friend, and sire, 

Watch such a night by such a fire, 

•While some weird spirit smiled to tell 

That all we loved should fare as \\'ell. 

Alas, alas ! tliere needs must fall 
In all sweet cups some drops of gall. 
How mauv at this moment feel 



INTEMPERANCE. 275 

The keen cuts of the northern steel ; 

How many may be suffering 

From waspy winter's pinching sting ; 

How many 'gainst this arrowy air 

Put on the breastplate of despair ; 

For many, oh, how bitter 1)ite 

The icy teeth of this cold nigiit ; 

To peck at his relentless claws 

How many doves have mortal cause ; 

How many locked in leaky holds 

Are writhing in his frozen folds. 

Perchance that at this very hour 

Some roofless wretch must brave its power, 

While on his panting bosom go 

The drifting surges of the snow. 

Without one smiling star to guide 

His voyage o'er the seething tide, 

Or with new flame to re-invest 

The cindered hopes within his breast. 

Thou hadst a home and thou hadst wealth, 

And thou hadst competence of health, 

And ttiou hadst dear ones nursed in glee 

That many a teir will shed for thee. 

Thou couldst not one poor weakness shun ; — : 

Thy soul is lost, thy life undone. 

HI. 

Another vision dotli a])pear. 

'Tis the l>right summer o' the vear. 



27() IXTKMPKUANCE. 

O'er hill, and dale, and prairie, rolled, 
The harvests spread their billowy gold. 
The fertile sun is drowned in light. 
The day is glad, the world is bright ; 
Above the brook and by the spring 
The happy ])irds thanksgiving sing ; 
The great Creator smiles to-day 
And all the world is blest and gay. 
The fishes in the shady streams 
Are silent, full of peaceful dreams ; 
The fair flowers from the fragrant sod 
A\^ake their pure souls to worship God. 
O'er yonder bower-emblossomed vale 
The perfumes rise, and blows the gale, 
And through the groves the whole day long 
Kare warblers tune a various song. 
A courtly mansion rears on high 
Its turrets to the bright blue sky. 
Why there, beneath this azure dome, 
Should care descend to seek a home? 

His is a powerful, skillful hand, 
• That shapes the atoms of the sand ; — 
A tender nurse that rocks to sleep 
The wood-worm in its maple keep, 
That leads across the hollow hill 
His starry troops to midnight drill. 
That doth to each sucli luuture deal 



INTEMPEKAXCK. 271 

As best becomes the suppliant's meal. 
He molds the seas and builds the air 
And gives to earth her dower of care, — 
A pale, unwelcome, treacherous, guest, 
Beneath our eves to build its nest. 

To kindlier spirits, 'tis too true. 

Too often do we weep adieu. 

But all the hosts that spring to Ijirth 

To tread the castle of the earth, 

And all the pirate fleets of crime 

Have sea room in the docks of time. 

The idle snail must have his shell, 

Tarantula his webb}^ cell, 

The minnows swim, as well as he, 

The fishy mountain of the sea. 

The vagrant flea in iiature hid. 

As Asia's tusky pyramid, 

Or he whose Himalayan zones 

Encumber earth with fossil l)ones. 

All nature is composed of wheels 
Revolving in their several creels. 
To-day, behold ! one side goes up 
And kisses pleasure's gilded cup ; 
To-morrow from the firmament 
It cuts a swift, compelled descent. 
And Imthes it, like a pale recluse, 



278 INTian'KKANCE. 

Ill bk'uk seclusion's Avonnwood juice. 
But, see! it moves, and moves, and moves, 
Along the everlasting grooves, 
And he who climbs with patience meet 
And keeps his i)lace on duty's seat, 
Who shuns with zeal sin's sandy bars 
And turns his l)ow-sprit to the stars. 
One day at last his wheel may fix 
Where grief with joy can never mix. 

To-day the noontide lamp was l)right, 
But 'twill not burn the oil of night. 
The lizard crawls in that same .shade 
Where India's chaste gazelles have played, 
And that same beam our lives must beg 
Doth hatch the serpent's gilded egg. 
Beneath our roofs come now and then 
Guests that we welcome not again ; 
But, good or ill, 'tis nearly one 
When those we love or })rize are gone. 
Oh, would the Heavens might kindly spare 
Some power to blunt the fangs of care ! 

Yon dwelling seems the haunt of love. 
The day is calm, around, above. 
'Mid such a glorious scene as this. 
Its halls must needs be steeped in bliss. 
But wbv, when all is sun and shine, 



INTEMPERANCE. 279 

Should pencil draw a darkened line ? 
And in the valley's verdant dress 
Those walls, so framed for happiness, 
Where health and peace were meant to reign, 
Should terror hold supreme domain? 

Here on a couch of misery flung 
Is stretched a form, superb and young. 
And joyousness, refinement, grace. 
Were pictured once in that fair face. 
Designed a pattern and a guide, 
Here was a man long since the pride 
Of all 'mong whom his lot was cast. 
Equaled by few, by none surpassed. 
Possessor of a master's mind, 
Respected, honored, and refined, 
A noble soul, a generous heart, 
He might have played a lofty part ; 
Fit in his country's congress halls. 
Or where the voice of honor calls. 
In whatsoe'er demands a man, 
To be the first among the van. 

Now, in his frenzied agonies, 
He does not know the friends he sees. 
Grim fiends are hewing off his head, 
And crawling reptiles swarm his bed. 
The fulsome creatures scream and weep 



280 IXTKMrKHANCE. 

And will not let their victim sleep. 

Beyond, around, above, below, 

Tlie writhing spectres come and go. 

One hideous viper whets his dart 

And coils itself in his numb heart ; 

And slimy snakes fall from the skies 

To fix themselves in his wild eyes. 

His frame is full of aches and goads. 

Ferocious beasts and dismal toads 

Whose names and shapes no pen can paint, 

His lieartstrings tear, his brain attaint. 

Racked by a hundred thousand fears, 

He feels cold lizards in his ears. 

Unbidden forms that spurn control 

Rend out the roots of his mad soul. 

Fierce carnival they hold, and high 

Poor sufferer ! Canst thou not die ? 

E'en hell itself must be a cure 

Against the ills thy nerves endure. 

What sprite hath sown this fearful storm 
Witliin the frame of this young form? 
What Ijlackened life in its Ijright hour? 
What rent the beauty from this flower ? 
Wherefore this pestilential breath, 
This war with fiends, this maniac death ? 
Intemperance ! Thou add'st one more 
To thy already frightful score. 



INTEMPERANCE. 281 

He sought in pride thy banquet hall, 

And thou bequeath 'st the piteous pall. 

Robed in the garbs of smiles and truth, 

Thou played'st the siren with his youth. 

Mistrustless of thy subtle charms, 

He clasped thee in his stalwart arms. 

Thou found'st in him no common guest, 

For he was noble, gifted, blest ; 

And he had friends j^diose ecstasy 

He long might share, except for thee. 

His mind a ruin, and his heart 

The seat of torture's direst art. 

Thou saw'st thy net work 'round him spread, 

And leav'st the fallen drunkard dead. 

IV 

A lowlier scene looms in the view. 

The magnet's point is not more true. 

Here, in a little group of trees, 

And swept by midnight's freshening breeze. 

Midst flowers tricked out by fairy hands 

In night's still hours, a cottage stands. 

Of all the world there is one place 
Most welcome still to our frail race. 
The wand'rer wheresoe'er he goes. 
Through Libyan sands or desert snows, 
In crowded town where millions teem, 



282 INTEMPERANCE. 

By crashing wave or sootlii]ig stream, 
Where prowling beasts an<l birds distress 
The night-enshrouded wilderness, 
Or where tlie ship rides silently 
The foam-erowned billows of the sea — 
• Where'er he roams from zone to zone, 
O'er fertile clime or ocean lone, 
On desert bleak or peopled hill, 
There is one thought that haunts him still. 
Go where he may 'neath Heaven's blue dome, 
His heart aspires to seek a home. 

Sweet home ! thou holy, calm retreat, — 
No wonder bards have called thee sweet! 
Safe, sacred, refuge from harsh cares — 
And each new day its burden bears — 
Seraphic jwiradise of earth. 
Thou seat of comfort, peace, and mirth^ 
Where love is queen, and man is free 
From toil and care, we welcome thee I 
Thou mind'st me of that happier sphere 
Where man forgets his miseries here ; 
That harbor deep, that golden shore, 
Where grief and ill can come no more. 
'Tis here the precious circle draws 
For their own rules their own fond laws ; 
Here, round the hearth of comfort c&rled, 
They build and mold a guileless world. 



intp:mpekance. 28;-3 

The fret of toil, the taunt, the tear, 

Find but a brief admission here. 

Outside, earth's ills may loudly call ; 

Here is a shield that foils them all. 

Thou who rulest every land, 

And all the spheres Thy power hath planned, 

Give me a home by wold or wave ! 

'Tis all I ask this side the grave. 

Such is the scene the spirit sees 

Nestled among these cozy trees ; 

Nor wanton thought, nor guilt, nor fear. 

Has hardihood to enter here. 

Its hearth is blazing, and its light 

Gleams brightly out this starry night. 

Come, reader, string contentment's lyre 

And circle close this friendly fire. 

What glowing hues, Avhat lines of grace. 

Are chiseled in his living face ; 

How strong he writhes, how hard he toils, 

How deep he links his liquid coils. 

Strains every nerve that serves him best, 

Works the red engines of his breast — 

Nay, to protect the prize he grooms, 

His very soul itself consumes. 

The words his flaming tongue would speak 

Are stamped upon his burning cheek ; 

And what a broad uncanceled vow 



284 INTEMPERANCE. 

Is written on Ids yellow brow ! 
Warder and watch of this small group, 
Three happy fowl in this snug coop, 
Our tested sword and trusty shield 
On more than one frost-soldiered field. 

Within this home, beside this fire, 
Are seated wife, and child, and sire. 
Perhaps with hushed, complacent look. 
He delves in some instructive book ; 
Or they, perchance, on him prevail 
To interweave a nimble tale. 
The fumes of idleness are strong, 
The hour is dull, the evening long. 
It can be no rebellious plot 
At mirth to fire one random shot. 
To seek one shell along the shore 
Where all the world glean less or more, 
To plant one seed that shall grow green 
Through many a long-succeeding scene. 
And fish for pleasure, though he float 
In frail romance's rosy boat. 
To swell the bliss he kindly sees, 
On swarm his fancy's clustering bees. 
Each in its own peculiar soil 
And simple dress, or gaudy foil. 
Through all the vast profound of air 
Are blossoms smiling here and there ; 



INTEMPERANCE. 285 

Those winged toilers wand'ring far 
From stalk to stalk and star to star 
May bring from them some silver foam 
That shall be sweet in thine own home. 

To chloroform the imps of strife, 

To squander thus one dime of life, 

With fable's aquafortis power 

To gnaw away a tedious hour, 

To have one swing at fiction's bell, 

One measure from her phantom well, 

To quell the visionary fight 

Of goblins in the caves of night, — 

In themes like these we haste to bask 

In the broad sunshine of thy task ; 

And, though thy power may not entrance, 

The hill to skip or mountain dance, 

Yet hit one stroke on fancy's nail. 

Let story hoist one specious sail. 

Along the spokes thy fingers steal 

Of spruce invention's spinning-wheel. 

The theme to which thou bend'st thy voice, 

We mutely leave to thine own choice. 

Be't warrior on the purple field, 

The scourge of vice or virtue's shield. 

Ambition's daring leap at fame — 

That rushy bulwark of a name — 

Or, better still, thou deign'st to tell 



286 INTEMPERANCE. 

Of one who loved a lady well, 

To weave one braid of silken words 

That ma}^ become thy parlor birds ; 

To censure is no part of ours ; 

Thine own will land thy humble powers. 

No raven wing shall fold above 

The syllables of him they love, 

In beady order deftly hung 

And dripping from a mossy tongue : 

And in thy household's sparkling rays, 

Thy heart will hear thy loved one's praise 

In simple drafts of home and love. 

That lift the soul to realms above. 

Alas ! True goodness can but rue 
That such a scene should i)ass from view. 
In this neat home that seems so blest 
Truth must portray another guest. 
Here through the lattice, like a thief, 
Peeps in the wolfish face of grief. 
Whose spirit tells an ancient theme 
And melts, like hope, our silver dream. 

Now, I perceive, I am below ; 
Such sparks fly but from flints of woe. 
No newt like this had ever birth, 
Except in some green swamp of earth ; 
Such foggy lines are only seen 



INTEMPERANCE. 287 

Where clouds or planets, planets screen. 
Grief is a weed doth only fare 
On this sphered island of the air, 
A grating note that will not ring, 
Except on earth's discordant string ; 
It is a bug doth ever crawl, 
As, one by one, life's leaflets fall, 
A prisoned beast whose rage maintains 
His tugs and teeth at patience' chains, 
A four winged fool that still would pass 
Opposing walls of treach'rous glass. 
Too light, dark stranger, dost thou scan 
Tlie aching breasts of troubled man, 
Though thou must needs, alas, confess 
The geysers lodged in their distress, 
And, towering in the misty air, 
The rocky Alps their shoulders bear. 
May He who all tlieir miseries knows 
And metes to each his ounce of woes, 
Allay the nipping viper smarts 
And weed the thistles from our hearts ! 
Why should the shining coin of joy 
Be tempered with such base alloy? 

Oh, that the bird of such a flight 
Should build its nest in eaves so bright ! 
This quiet home thou hast not passed, 
But smit'st it with a bitter blast. 



288 INTEMPERANCE. 

At yonder pane, see that sweet face, 

So full of love and artless grace, 

So void of folly and pretense, 

The painting pure of innocence ! 

What lurking sorrow ventures now 

To make his march across her brow ? 

What mortal fantasy doth seek 

A haven in her silken cheek? 

What pris'ner in his caged unrest 

Doth skip around her harassed breast? 

What bubbling dreams doth darkly roll 

Along the surface of her soul ? 

What moody thought doth sadly lie 

In the soft sofa of her eye? 

Let all draw near tliis spirit true, 

Who would obtain a closer view. 

The seat of so much tender grace 

Must surely be a sainted place. 

But hark ! I hear at every sob 

Her pure, responsive bosom throb. 

That beauteous mould, for bliss designed, 

Should bear a bright, unburdened mind. 

That form, so delicate and fair, 

Was never meant for tears and care. 

In the parterres that Morpheus keeps 
Unconsciously her infant sleeps. 
Now silence sits on his dark throne. 



INTEMPERANCE. 289 

The birds to their still nests have flown ; 
In their hushed liives the weary bees 
Repose beneath the rustling trees ; 
The moon is breathless, and on high 
The stars wink in the silent sky. 
No sound of man, or beast, or bird, 
Save night's lone sentinel is heard. 
The world is steeped in slumber deep. 
Why wak'st thou, lady, now to weep ? 
When all the earth lie down and close 
The volume of their varied woes. 
When stillness rules the restless sea. 
What is the grief that burdens thee ? 

Intemperance ! We sadly trace 

Thy handiwork to this sweet place ; 

For not a spot so blest or rare 

But thou canst wreak destruction there. 

List ! Through the far-ascending air, 

The murmuring of her anxious prayer. 

" O Thou ! Wlio in Thy glory dressed 

Dost deign to give the weary rest ; 

Who in Thy majesty divine, 

Command'st yon moon and stars to shine ; 

Who didst unroll the Milky Way, 

Dost light the night and quench the day 

With grand inimitable art. 

And didst attune the human heart 



290 INTEMPERANCE. 

To liappiness ; I ask of Thee, 
Be gracious to my child and me ! 
And, oh ! I pray Thee to look down 
With mercy, not with hopeless frown, 
On my dear spouse and guide his ways 
To his bright paths of yonnger days ; 
For Thou dost know, benignant Lord, 
Ere dissipation's hand hath marred 
His generous heart, that one more kind, 
Devoted, tender, none could find. 
Reclaim him. Lord, from evil ties. 
From tJiat whence all his errors rise ! 
Avert the drunkard's destiny 
And bring him bax;k to Thee and me. "' 

But where this stilly night so late 
Does he, for whom she watches, wait? 
Here in the slums of the dim town. 
The same calm moon looks keenly down 
That glances on the sorrowing gnome. 
The lone, pure guardian of thy home ; 
And here, 'mongst thy besotted friends, 
Where shame begins and honor ends, 
Where strife, and blasphemy, and crime, 
Doth mock the preciousness of time. 
And where the oft-returning bowl 
Bedaubs with death a priceless' soul ; 
Where unseen demons in their glee 



INTEMPKKAXCK. 291 

Rejoice to see tliy revelry, 
Where victims buy and liarpies sell 
The reeking heritage of hell ; — 
Here in this kraal dost thou delight 
To pass the lone, long hours of night. 
No thought of thy sweet infant child, 
So l)eauteous and so unbeguiled,- — 
'Tis well it cannot feel the prong- 
That yet shall sting, its father's wrong ; 
That, in its angel innocence. 
It does not know thy high offence ; — 
No thought of her whose eyes o'erfiow 
For thee with tears of poignant woe, 
Who left a home of peace and ease, 
And full of holy memories, 
To cast herself and all her charms 
An offering in thy eager arms ; 
Who bravely faced life's stormy sea 
And left the world to be with thee. 
Was this her hope in thy gay prime. 
In the tranced days of olden time, 
When thy young form to her did seem 
Fulfillment of her brightest dream, 
When 'mong the millions of mankind. 
None other could love's blindness find — 
Though many sought of proud degree 
And manly heart — to equal thee ? 
Was this thy promise in glad hours 



292 intp:mperance. 

In lonely walks among the flowers, 
Beneath the sunset's crimson gleam, 
Or by the fragrance-margined stream, 
When e'en a zephyr could not stir, 
Thou didst not deem too rude for her? 
Was this thy promise when in pride 
Thou stood'st beside thy virgin bride 
iVnd led'st her glad and beautified 
An angel to the altar side ? 

Oh, shame upon thy fettered wings ! 
Thy heart was made for better things. 
Shake off the shackles of thy life, 
Bring pleasure back to thy fond wife ; 
Paint bright again her brow ; imyjart 
New happiness to her pure heart. 
Forever close thy orgies wild, 
Return to home, to wife, to child ; 
({uard as through life they weary plod 
Then give the precious gems to ( iod. 

V. 

Again the scene is shifted. Spring 
Doth hover on a balmy wing. 
It is a mild, emblossomed day ; 
The happy world is clad with May. 
In all thy ornaments portrayed. 
Thou painting of a passing shade, 



INTEMPERANCE. "iDo 

What grace and grandeur now doth shine 

On every surging blush of thine ! 

Circassian daughter of the skies 

Smile on our globe with all thine eyes! 

Sweet May ! thou child of trancing charms, 

Rocked in the ocean's silver arms 

And clinging in tliy guileless mirth 

Around the neck of this fair earth ! 

Oh, would thou couldst be always young, 

And sucking with thy sunny tongue 

In playful wile and wanton zest 

The flowery milk from her green breast ! 

Of all thy mates thou art the prime 

That prop the twelve-piered bridge of time. 

Fifth of the twelve, thou amber tear 

Set in the necklace of the year, 

The heart beyond its playground skips 

And seats itself upon the lips, 

We so rejoice to see thy arch 

And step by step to count thy march : 

The gaudy world and the wide sea. 

Are filled with tongues to worship thee. 

See yon strong oak in weird repose 
That broad in air his branches throws — 
Leaf-mantled monarch crowned the pride 
Of all his kingdom, wild and wide — 
O'er his tall empire's jungly vast 



294 INTKM.rEKANCE. 

Around the globe his glances cast, 
And from his green, imperial seat 
Look lordly down on his retreat. 
With all the powers of might and mind, 
By all the ties her thoughts can wind, 
Imploring with extended hands. 
Outside his jjorch a sunbeam stands. 
But all thy magic art must fail ; 
No .sad appealing may prevail. 
No prayer of thine that warder win 
To take the far-toiled |)ilgrim in. 
Through his calked heart to find a lane 
Tliat wandering beam doth search in vain. 
The troops of time and winds have warred 
On his proud frontlet still unscarred ; 
The whirring thunder's crushing blow 
Against the lightning wedge below 
From pole to pole and east to west 
Have toiled in vain to cleave his breast. 

Beneath that tow'ring oak's deep shade. 

Now with whose locks the May-cloud played, 

In pathless contemi)lation lost, 

On thought's wide ocean tempest-tossed, 

The type of sinewy hardihood. 

Forlorn and sad a stranger stood. 

To dote upon his gilded locks 

The sirens leave their ocean rocks. 



INTEMPERANCE. 29.J 

A block from nature's tempest sky 

Did she hew out to build his eye. 

Refined with all her shining craft, 

And charged w4th many a burning shaft, 

A globe of soul bepeopled fair, 

Dejected stood that stranger there. 

The proud sun's self smiled to allow 

The rival radiance of his brow, 

The title page, from which survey 

The ocean vast that washed its bay. 

His brawny arms might tilt a sword 

Would humble many a knighted lord, 

Or him who smiled in savage joy 

Above the flower of fallen Troy. 

In that deep bosom's spacious bound 

Did iron strength an empire found ; 

A princely eagle soaring high 

The heart within that flesh-domed sky ; 

And lavish nature does not spare 

Such charms as most may claim her care, 

A long, majestic caravan 

Of qualities that make a man. 

At source of fortune's sunny Nile, 
In wonder vague he stands awhile, 
Fixed as the nude and knotted root 
That warped the soil beneath his foot, 
Inflexile as the stubborn wood, 



290 INTEMPERANCE. 

The mossy trunk by which he stood. 
At length wild thoughts that flee control 
Begin to buzz within his soul. 
" Is that the cold material sky 
Through which I aim this dark'ning eye, 
Or have I tracked some wizard road 
That led me to this strange abode? 
Is that thing clay on which I stand ? 
Is this my staff and this my hand ? 
Is yon a flower I think I see ? 
Is that a cloud and this a tree ? 
Is that black fragment yonder rock ? 
Are all these toys to gibe and mock ? 
Is yon a bird that flies so high ? 
I wonder now if I am I. 
Is this strange structure w^hat it seems, 
Or is it but a bale of dreams? 
* Are these rough ribs substantial zones, 

Or sinipl}^ bubbles painted bones ? 
Is this tiling flesh that seems so fair, 
Or something not so tough as air ? 
Was that the wind I thought I heard, 
Or in the boughs some linnet stirred ? 
Was that some tinkling silver bell ? 
It could not be a leaf that fell ! 

"But mum, my soul, I hear some strain. 
It patters down, methinks like rain. 



INTEMPERANCE. 297 

Oh, what a dainty kernel lies 

In yon blue nutshell of the skies ! 

Sweet Paradise ! Have I at last 

In thy deep port my anchor cast ? 

What hand hath piled these cliffs of gold 

Whose diamond towers I now behold ? 

What kind of leaf grows on the flowers, 

That fragrance thus o'erflows the bowers — 

A sea of sweetness, on whose tide 

Tlie Pyrenees, like foam, might ride ? 

Ye golden-winged and bright-faced throng. 

Why did I rust on earth so long, 

To grow and eat, uproot and mar, 

A tin-worm on a vapory star, 

To tipple, shout, and reel, and fall. 

In cesspool vineyards of that ball, 

To fodder on the tares of strife. 

And Avriggle tlirough the mire of life, 

To snatch at every painted shape, 

And suck tlie gall from out the grape? 

" l*oor moth, I dabbled in its glare 
And fancied I was happy there. 
Alone and cheerless, may I praise 
The joyful scenes of other days ? 
AVhy doth my star of sorrow set ? 
I have an eye can shame him yet. 
That was a meek and virtuous dawn — 



298 INTEMPERANCE. 

I marked her step across the lawn — 
And, as I rose at morn to drink 
One joyous draught, ah! did I think 
A snake so fell in his foul slime 
Lay coiled within that tuft of time ? 

" But where so suddenly hath gone 

The green old steed I jockeyed on? 

Where is that whirlwind planet-cloud, 

At whose dim altars once I howed ? 

Where is that dark, death-windowed shop, 

Where is that sorrow-painted top 

Spinning along the level skies 

That once I held at such a prize ? 

Alas ! 'Tis here. My senses reel. 

The damn'd know not the pangs I feel. 

That hell were bliss that did contain 

But half of my transcendent pain. 

Whence come those throngs that, like a sea, 

Assemble now to stare at me ? 

So humble here, and once so proud, 

AVhy do I shrink from yon cold crowd ? 

Through all their mazes, hushed, compressed, 

A shudder creeps from breast to breast. 

What is this mantle of disgrace 

That muffles up my wildered face ? 

O'er all surrounding life no cloud. 

What means this coffin and this shroud? 



INTEMPERANCE. 299 

Appalling sprite ! Dark gallows tree ! 
Why dost thou scowl so black at me? 

" Life's doubtful bliss I know no more, 

And love's weird dream's forever o'er. 

Here, 'neath this dark and frowning beam, 

Is there no hand that can redeem 

My forfeit life ? Is there no friend 

In this dire hour some aid can lend ? , 

Sweet friendship, for the soul distressed, 

Thou art indeed a cheering guest. 

To lowly man to soothe his sores, 

O bounteous Heaven ! 'mong all thy stores. 

Thou hast no treasure thou canst send 

More priceless than a faithful friend. 

" Let fate and envy strain the rack, 
Let bristling fear beset my track, 
Let mouse-jawed fiend by dark or day 
Gnaw at each nerve that tunes my clay. 
With sooty hand come rude despair 
To soil the lace that hope should wear, 
And snatch from off her trembling form 
The last frail shred that fenced the storm ; 
Though every hair upon my head 
Suspend an oak whose leaves are lead. 
Though in its branches scream and sing 
Each boding bird that woe can wing. 



300 INTKMl'EKAXCK. 

Though on its moss-grown, barky wall 
Jler slimy toads and lizards crawl ; 
Though swinish fate deijl out his dole, 
Root up the tiower-beds of my soul. 
And rasp his cursed bone-bhuh'd knife 
Against the fibers of my life : 
Though stormy days be slow to close 
In sunshine and rebuke my foes ; 
Though chill neglect and aspic scoi'ns 
Dig up my soul and plant their thorns ; — 
I ask, though all these ills befall, 
But one true friend to brave them all. 

" Why around my scarlet hand 

Should gather all this surging Ijand ? 

Ye silent thousands, look at one 

Whose pilgrimage of life is run ; 

Who here atones in manhood's bud 

The stain he wears of human blood. 

Once I was crimsonless and gay 

As any in this vast array. 

Ah ! little did I comprehend 

The hangman's noose my life should end. 

On this bright day when the broad world, 

In balnw banners far unfurled, 

Doth seem for gaiety alone 

To sit upon a flowery throne. 

When feathered singers fill the air 



intp:mp?:rance. 301 

With melody divine and rare ; 

Beneath this tree whose crown uprears 

A promise to succeeding years : 

My few, few friends, on whom I lean, 

Oh ! haste to close this torturing scene. 

How near to me those thousands are, 

Yet how immeasurably far ! 

How deep and dread, — Oh ! can it be?— 

The gulf that shuts them out from me ! 

Where are the friends that once in showers 

Swarmed 'round me in my better hours? 

" My sainted mother from thy grave 
Come out to-day my soul to save ! 
Was this the honored destiny 
Thy proud, fond heart forecast for me. 
When I cavorted, pure and free, 
A feeble child beside thy knee ? 
Why didst thou yield my sinking soul 
To the allurements of the bowl ? 
Why didst thou not, my spirit, arm 
Against the wine-cup's siren charm ? 
Then, then, indeed ! thou wert not here, 
And never should the burning tear 
That clouds this tragic moment, trace 
A pathway on my crimsoned face. 
To Thee, Oreat Spirit ! I appeal, 
At whose high throne I soon must kneel. 



302 INTEMPERANCE. 

Forgive the heart that wine beguiled. 
Oh, pardon tliy repentant child ! " 

The multitude have vanished and 
The sunlight falls on all the land ; 
The oak tree swings its massive limbs, 
The birds rechant their sylvan hymns ; 
Through their green banks the brooklets run ; 
The drunkard sleeps ; the scene is done. 

VI 

'Twas not with mild and friendly glance 
I sought thy fane, Intemperance. 
'Twas not through love I felt for thee 
I sat me 'neath thy upas tree, 
And not for what thy friends commend 
Sought I thy bowers an hour to spend. 

• est such a goddess might refuse, 

I would invoke no courtly muse 

Of golden heart or azure wing 

To tune my rhyme and aid me sing. 

Though from her far, ambrosial bower 

To lure the nymph were in my power. 

Though that weird skill should all be mine 

To wave my wand and see her shine 

A dazzling star and lustrous bow 

Of help and love above my brow. 



INTEMPERANCE. 303 

Though I possessed her sweet regard 
As deep as Scio's bhnd old bard ; 
In tide as full, in force as strong 
As rolled the Mantuan epic song ; 
As freighted with poetic fire 
As Dante's strain, or Tasso'slyre, 
The Lusiad grot, or IMilton's sweep 
Where demons howl or angels weep ; 
The course were blasphemy in me 
With what is pure to couple thee. 

All powerful queen of guilt and ill, 

I knew thee once, I know thee still. 

My fellow moths of liuman kind, 

With motives pure and grief-refined — 

The wrecks I marked on misery's beach — 

I sat me down this hour to teach. 

It is not that I sought applause 

By dextrous verse or skillful pause, 

'Tis not that I would carve my name 

Upon the icy dome of fame. 

That with the aid of pen and press 

I creep before the world to dress 

The fiend in her own robes and trace 

Her visage in the market place ; 

'Tis not for deeds of high renown, 

The shaking down of tower or town, 

The listed fight of warrior bold, 



304 ixtempp:rance. 

The torrid heat or polar cold, 
The tender sigh, the lover's smile, 
Unmixed with taint of guilt or guile, 
Nor marching millions stained in blood : 
But for the liope of human good. 
That I implore this little span 
Before the audience of man. 

If any eye shall ever see 
These lowly lines, oh ! be it free 
From all the chains of vice and care. 
Of grief, and suff ring, and despair, 
Of folly, wickedness, and crime, 
The wastings out before their time 
Of life and love that quench the soul 
And heart of him who courts tlie bowl. 
If any ear shall ever hear 
The footfall of a drunkard's tear, 
Can ever trace on this sad page 
Th' unenvious, lowly heritage 
That welcomes him and all he deems 
The dearest of his heart's warm streams,, 
If any may discern the cloud 
Which glooms existence, like a shroud, 
Or like the dark, forbidding pall 
That periods life and shuts out all 
The world and home can ever give 
To those who still do love to live; 



INTEMPERANCE. 305 

If any in these lines observe 
The languid brain and shattered nerve, 
The early blight and swift decay 
Of some sweet flower of yesterday, 
And, heeding thus,, aside should turn 
From where th' engulfing fires do burn, 
Should shun a precipice more dread 
' Than Gloster's faiftliful son outspread 
Before his sightless sire, or fiee 

The waters of a salty sea 

As all-pervading and as dire 

As that which drowned the world's wide choir 

Of being, save the few who sat 

At last on lonely Ararat ; 

Then shall I feel that not in vain 

My hand hath traced this simple strain. 

If I can help but one poor waif 

Of weak humanity and safe 

Escort him to the flowery shore 

Beside the cataract's angry roar — 

He now so near, and yet so for, 

From that dark frown of liquid war, — 

The labor then will not be lost 

Which this poor task of mine hath cost. 

Thou heartless malelactress, know 
Thy luring smile and venom glow. 
Thy witching presence unrefined 



306 INTEMPEKANCE. 

Not always may entrap mankind ; 
Thy face may yet be shunned by all, 
Thy handcuffs, chains, and shackles, fall 
From off the cankered limbs where long 
The clasp was tight, the bolt was strong ; 
And humankind more purely soar 
Than any that have flown before. 
If Lucifer be Prince of Hell, 
Thou art, indeed, his consort fell ; 
Meet queen, malicious and alone. 
To grace the arch-fiend's burning throne ; 
Fit, if thy power on earth be named, 
To rule o'er empires of the damn'd. 

Come, sweet millenium, swiftly come, 
When the appalling vice be dumb. 
When, far or near, no drunken band 
Shall desecrate a christian land ; 
Transformed from fair and precious mold. 
From hearts and minds of priceless gold. 
No armies more of drunken brutes — 
Prince Alcohol's ungracious fruits — 
Shall march adown the fields of time 
To fill the world with sighs and crime. 
To court destruction from above, 
To darken homes and roll sweet love 
Of all the joys her godship hives 
For sincere truth and -sober lives. 



INTEMPERANCE. »{)', 

To quench the stars in vacancy 
And blot the high sun from the sky, 
To gloom the circumambient air 
In rainbows charged with tears and care, 
And hurl destruction down in showers, 
To parch the earth and bhght the flowers. 
To make mankind and all below 
A desert waste of sleet and snow. 

Advance, advance, thou glorious age, 
Thy boons alone our hearts engage, 
When alcohol shall be unknown. 
When Temperance shall mount his throne — 
The arch-fiend from his fortress hurled. 
No more to scourge a happy world — 
When mothers smile to see their sons 
Unchained from fell debauchery's duns, 
When husbands leading even lives 
Bring peace and bliss to faithful wives, 
When children full of youth's bright fires 
Shall point with pride to sober sires. 
Prosperity with gentle rule 
Teach old and young in her sweet school. 
When virtue's sun alone shall shine, 
Nor all the earth her wealth confine — 
Nor hearts, nor homss, by ill distressed — 
When few are sad and many blessed. 
All men rejoice, and angels dance 
Upon thy grave. Intemperance. 



THP: SLAVE'S RE\^ENGE. 

There are sighs of sadness heaving 

From many a melting soul, 
There are wheels of friendship broken 

That never more may roll, 
And troubled friends, lamenting 

In many a bleeding home. 
Bewail in sorrow lonely 

The faded flowers of Rome. 

The dark lists of proscription 

Are posted through the town 
And the bloodhounds of Augustus 

Htill hunt their victims down : 
The life-stream of the fairest 

Her proudest ages know 
Are mingling with the waters 

Of Tiber's purj^le How. 



THE slave's itEVEXdE. IJOlt 

A tliousaiid liearts are bleeding, 

A thousand hearts have bled, 
While thousands more are numbered 

To join the injured dead ; 
And on that list, immortal 

To Caesar's crimson fame, 
Behold the rank and title 

Of many a haughty name. 

There Antius among them 

May live no more unsci'eened, 
But meet the ghostly legions 

His tyrant guillotined. 
Ah I life's poor gift is gracious 

E'en in fortune's stormy day, 
And Kestio is determined 

To journey far away. 

While the robes of darkness circle 

The weak and wearied grown, 
This child of Rome is taking 

His journey long and lone ; 
The slaves he leaves behind him 

Complete his overthrow, 
And the plunder of his mansions 

Adds sorrow to his woe. 

" Farewell," said he, departing. 
bleeding land of mine ! 



olO THE slave's revenge. 

No more thy martial glory 
Shall rouse this child of thine 

Or nerve his arm in danger 
To some unwonted deed 

Tn vengeance on the demons 
That made his nation bleed. 

"Farewell, my heaving country, 

Thou cradle of my sires. — 
Ah ! Never more to bless thee 

Shall blaze their altar fires ! — 
May the gods divine encircle 

Thy myrtle covered shore. 
But, mansion of my ftithers, 

Farewell forever more." 

He said and sighed adieuing, 

Then dried the burning tear 
For those around his fireside 

Whom he may never cheer : 
Their anguish and their sorrows 

Come thronging on his breast, 
While Italia's caves and mountains 

Deny the pilgrim rest. 

Upon his way uncertain 

Through forest, flood, and field, 
Amid the hostile dangers 



THE slave's revenge. 311 

That furious thousauds yield ; 
While hope and will are fading 

Within that sinking soul. 
Cold, cold across his bosom 

Misfortune's billows roll. 

The spells of night are broken. 

He hears a boding sound 
In the stillness of the midnight 

And the wilderness profound. 
'Tis the footstep of a human 

In the forest deep and wild 
On the pathway long and lonely 

Of a flying Roman child. 

Now he hears a voice beside him — 

Ah, unwelcome let it be 
To the sad and heaving bosom 

Of a homeless refugee ! — 
And that magic voice reminds him 

Of a voice he heard before 
When he trod the stately mansions 

That his pride shall know no more. 

'Tis the slave he once degraded 

When in passion's evil hour 
He displayed the centaur nature 

Of injustice leagued with power : 



312 THE slave's revenge. 

And the Ibrin that once he branded 
Stands in pride before him now 

With the symbols of dishonor 
Still im])lanted on his l)ro\v. 

'Tis but now the bondmen freed him 

From a felon's weary wall 
Which a master's wrong decreed liim 

In the dungeon's gloomy hall : 
Seeks he now that heartless master 

On his lone, bewildered way ; 
Now he hails the hour approacliing 

Of a dark, avenging day. 

O, ye gods of man's creation. 

Stay the hand that digs the grave. 

]Must the scion of the noble 
Be the victim of a slave? 

Not a soul of kindred near him, 

Nor a lonely epicede, 
Not a weeping heart beside him. 

Not a friend to see him bleed. 

" Master," said the injured l)ondsman, 
" Curse the fate that dooms thee here, 

A forlorn and flying exile 

Far from home and country dear : 

Curse the storm that sweeps around thee, 



THE slave's KEVKX(iE. 313 

And the tempest cloud that Hies 
O'er the once attractive bosom 
Of Italia's sunny skies. 

^' Now I ask thee to remember 

All thy cruelty to me, 
And the vengeance tliat I promised 

If this arm were ever free. 
Fate has changed our situations. 

I am thy proud master now. 
I could light the stars of justice 

On thy cold and craven l)row. 

" Yet await no deed of danger 

From this injured hand of mine ; 
Far away cast each reflection 

Of the darkest deed of thine : 
Think upon thy virtues only 

And the favors thou hast shown 
To the servants of thy houseliold 

Ere its pride was overthrown. 

" Pleasant days we passed together 

'Neath the myrtle and the vine, 
Where the flowers of summer blooming 

In their fragrance used to twine 
With the beauties and the splendor 

Which our hearts could once adore 



;14 THE slave's PxEVENGE. 

In the valleys and the gardens 
We are doomed to see no more. 

" We have sighed, and we have sorrowed^ 

Smiled in bright and sunny hours 
In the fields and in the valleys, 

'Mid the forest and the bowers ; 
Yet how vain the sad reflections 

O'er an exile's heart that roam 
As the soul reverts in sorrow 

To the scenes enjoyed at home ! 

" Then bethink thee of thy danger. 

In this darksome hour of dread 
Let the mantle of the panther 

Be the pillow of thy head. 
And the cavern of the mountain 

Prove to thee a downy sheet 
Where the noble of thy nation 

And the forest sleepers meet. 

'' Safe within will I conceal thee, 
And no human fiend shall find 

The refuge of my master 

In his mountain cell enshrined : 

The labor and the danger, 
My liege, consign to me 



THE SLAVES HEVEN(iE. 315 

And far from Caesar's kingdom 
Thy lordship soon shall be." 

Now xVntius is sheltered 

In liis lonely mountain cave, 
His life within the keeping 

Of his sorely injured slave ; 
A]id that servant is preparing, 

While his features wear a smile, 
The structure rude and rugged 

Of his master's solemn pile. 

Nor is the work completed, 

Ere on that hapless way 
Is seen a weary palmer 

Whose silken locks are gray. 
Now, to the place advancing. 

The stranger bids him hail, 
But list the dying accents 

That swell upon the gale. 

The servant arm of Kestio 

Has made that victim reel 
And the bosom of that stranger 

Is the scabbard of his steel. 
He came with weary footstep 

Where that lonely pile was made 



ol() TlIK slave's KKVKXiiK. 

And on its solenni summit 
His aged limbs were laid. 

Behold! the toivli is lighted 

And sul)limelY dark and dire 
Are rolling to the heavens 

The vapors of that tire. 
And in the distant valley 

See C'tcsar's troops advance 
Arrayed in savage si)lendor 

With helmet, plume, and lanee. 

" Ho, Warriors!" cries the bondsman, 

" Behold a victim here 
The current of whose l)OSom 

To Ctesar's wrath is dear : 
This man was once a master 

And I his servant true. 
Well for his dark injustice 

This gory meed was due. 

" There lies his lifeless body 
And feeds that hungry flame, 

And where his head is lying- 
Yon stony eyes proclaim. 

Bear Restio's bleeding tro}ihy 
For Roman eves to see. 



THE slave's REVEN(JE. olT 

And be your monarch's plcMsuve 
A rich reward to me." 

Tliose steel-mailed hearts rejoicing 

That trophy bear away, 
While the servant seeks his master 

With all the haste he may. 
Behold, with joyous bosoms 

They walk a sylvan strand 
And soon resume their journey 

To seek a distant land. 

They found a friendly harl)or 

And rode a peaceful \vave, 
This symbol of injustice, 

This crimson human slave. 
And thus they dwelt together 

The tempest billows o'er. 
Far from the vines and myrtles 

That I'obe the Roman shore. 



THE PICTURE THAT HANGS ON THE WALL. 

When fancy creeps back to the hours that have faded, 
The friends that long years have now mehowed and 

shaded, 
And all the fond hopes that my boyhood paraded, 

No gift of my youth I more fondly recall, 
Among the gay haunts recollection replaces. 
The snow-pinioned spirits, and narrow arch-graces, 
Diaphanous bosoms, and cherul)ic faces, 

Tlian this little picture that hangs on the wall. 

That motioidess shadow was once my })roud treasure, 
My constant companion in sadness and pleasure, 
With a merciful eye ever ready to measure 

The sky of my triumph, the gulf of my fall. 
The universe surged at her slightest emotion, 
She kindled my soul into flames of devotion. 
And all tliat is left of that magical ocean 

Is this little }>icture that hangs on the Avail. 



THE PICTURE THAT HAX(;S OX THE WALL. 319 

The picture to me a briglit being discloses 

That once in the breast where this silence reposes 

Was as pure as the lilies and sweet as the roses 

AVhose fragrance aml)rosial enveloped us alb 
Too fondly I dreamed that my destiny never 
Should call upon me and this treasure to sever, — 
Alas ! that my soul should be darkened forever 

By this little picture that liangs on the wall. 



When I gaze there awhik> and with all my attention 
Observe the faint lines of its trivial extension, 
It seems that the heart in so small a dimension, 

Was less than the raindrop that fades in its fall. 
But ah ! in the l:)reast, of ivhich this is a token, 
Beat a heart whose true worth must be ever unspoken ; 
And no fragment remains of its spells that are broken 

But this little picture that hangs on the wall. 

That orbit of vision, so silently tender, 

Was bright as the sun in the cloak of his splendor ; 

Till the being it Ijrightened was called to surrender 

Its beauteous glance in the jail of the pall. 
Ah, fate ! thou wert always awake to aggrieve me : 
What flattered me most was the first to deceive me, 
Till at last, thou cold world, all I ask thee to leave me 

Is this little picture that hangs on the wall. 



THE NATION'S DEFENDER. 

There droops an iinj)retencliiig bud 

Above a time-hewn clod, 
Where armies filed their surging flood 

In shoes of purple shod, 
And globulets of patriot blood 

Have circled o'er its sod. 

It rises on the silver cliord 

Of memory to me, 
As sacred as the spirit guard 

Of gilded Galilee— 
That little, green, secluded sward 

In a copse of Tennessee. 

A graveless soldier's bleaching bones 

Are sleeping on that spot, 
Accusers of the tinsel thrones 

For which tlieir lime must rot, 
And dreaming of the holy tones 

Of childhood's lowlv cot. 



THE nation's dkfxnder. 321 

'Tis lonely round his loyal bower 

When, gray old day undressed, 
They snatch the bulbous solar flower 

From her bosom of the west, 
And darkness consecrates the hour 

To sorrow, thought, and rest. 

'Tis lonely when the fireflies meet 

In conclave o'er his head, 
'Tis lonely when the dewy sheet 

Above his dust is spread, 
And lonely long shall be the beat 

He never more may tread. 

That frame whose powers could once o'erswim 

A Dardanelles of fear. 
Now, nerve by nerve, and liml) l)y limb, 

Doth softly disappeai' ; 
While chaste Columbia weeps for him, 

Her martyr volunteer. 

His seamy breast is bared to flght 

Full many a furious foe. 
And in the stormy, frosty night 

When winter winds do blow. 
His fleshless ribs, all smooth and white, 

Are filled with lungs of snow. 



322 THE nation's dkfkndek. 

He watches, tliroiigh his eyes of ice, 
His soul among the stars ; 

While peris IVesli from paradise 
Arrest their silver ears 

To hide by many a bleak device 
The warrior's boii}' scars. 

December, blind with frozen tears, 
Her cnrtain round him draws, 

To pay her queenshi})'s cold arrears 
Of sharp and pale applause 

And hang her crystal chandeliers 
Along bis gumless jaws. 

But when the green blood of the spring 
Doth creep through blade and tree. 

And leafy feathers lift their wing- 
Along the forest sea, 

There nature's lyre is strung to sing 
A merrier matinee. 

From out the ])ores of Ins nude brow 

Doth moss and ivy start ; 
While here and there, a tendril bough 

Fulfills a pulse's part, 
And a tuft of grass the wind stirs now 

Replaces his proud heart. 



THE nation's dkfkndki;. o2o 

The r()l)iii hops across his face, 

An unobtrusive guest, 
And, looking at the liollow space 

His vision once possessed, 
ConcUides 'twould be a cozy place 

To build a summer nest. 

Bright Ijuttercu}) and violet 

Are sprouting through his hands, 

The maiden-ljosomed mignonette, 
And Howers of genial lands 

Which, till tlie orlj of glory set, 
Shall l)loom above his sands. 

The cone that cracked his life's fair glass 

Hath but a l:)arren l)ed, 
For the brain through which it would not pass, 

That flowed around its lead, 
Hath mingled with the l)oiling mass 

Of cloudhills overhead. 

Alas, 'tis sad and many weep, 

'Xeatli his forehead's arching wall. 

To hear the mice that ski]) and leaj) 
And rattle that cold ball, 

When this huge world is still in sleep 
And silence dungeons all. 



.")24 THE nation's dkkkndkh. 

Around his reckless finger twines 

A jaunty gem of gold 
Through whose mute lips a secret shines 

Was cast in days of old, 
Initialed on whose surface lines 

A hright-eyed tale is told. 

But she whose name is scrolled to speak 
Of silkier scenes than this, 

Knows nothing of the swarms that seek 
In heyday summer's bliss 

To hask upon the stony cheek 
She never more may kiss. 

Her spirit lost its trancing })Ower 

And she is mateless yet — 
A chaste, neglected, wilting flower 

Her tears ke})t ever wet, 
That crisped and faded hour by hour 

When her sun of love had set. 

Oh ! bad we but some magic art 
Of marrying mind and clay. 

How quickly would that poor man start 
From his dull dust to day 

To weed those nettles from bis heart 
Xo gardener evei' mav. 



THE nation's dkkkndkk. 325 

All ! memory's peaks are hung with snow 

And bonnd in chains of frost, 
To think of all now laid so low 

Whom we have loved and lost, 
And that bleak sea of hnman ^voe 

Our nation's battles cost. 



THERE IS CRAPE UPON THE DOOR. 

'Tis a touch of necromancy 

At our prudish world to stare 
Through the telescope of fancy 

From some college in the air. 
See, in all the gold of gladness 

What a tissue of alloy, 
What a gorgeous cape of sadness, 

On the sunny waist of joy: 
In the ripples of the river, 

In the grass-waves of the shore, 
In the shaft of cupid's quiver, 

There is crape upon the door. 

In the autumn and the summer. 

In the gallopade of spring, 
In the clouds' electric drummer, 

In the pauper and the king, 



320 THERE IS CJ!A]*K IJ'oX THE DOOlt. 

On tlie mountain, in tlie valley, 

In the desert and the town, 
In retreat, and charge, and rally, 

Fierj'' green, and sol)er bi-own. 
In the flier and the creeper, 

In the groan, the growl, the roar, 
There is ahva}^? something deeper ; 

There is crape upon the door. 

Wlien we butt the salient angles 

Of ingratitude and scorn, 
Of deceit, and cares, and wrangles. 

From the loins of justice born ; 
When we find the arrant foxes 

Of hypocrisy and wrong 
That, like pesudo-orthodoxes, 

Have inveigled us so long ; 
When we kiss the empty flagon 

For the soul which once it wore, 
Near the undertaker's w^agon. 

There is crape upon the door. 

When we hazard on the ocean 
Of the coming or the past. 

And the streamers of emotion 
Are unfolded from the mast ; 

When we let the steam on duty 
O'er some unfrecjuented track, 



THERE IS CRAPE VPOy. THE DOOR. 

When we strip the He from beauty, 
AVhen we warn the victim back, 

When our comrades melt their faces, 
Each to its primeval ore, 

And but ciphers mark their places ; 
There is crape upon the door. 

When the dull and stony-breasted 
Sneer at chaste and humble toil, 

And our spirits fire-invested 

In their clay-casks heave and l)oil, 

When the pitchy Ijait of blindness 
lAires to some beleaguered goal 

Where the truncheon of unkindness, 
Cuts a gash across the soul, 

When the cold and the unfeeling- 
Pinch the sentient bosom sore, 

The unspoken wrongs revealing, 
There is crape upon the door. 

When the folds of disappointment 

Coil around the throat of care, 
When we sip the nauseous ointment 

Of misfortune and despair, 
When the flakes of woe fall thicker, 

From some providential dome, 
And coquettish hearts grow sicker 

Of the sacred wealth of home ; 



328 TIIEJJE IS CKAl'K II'OX THE DOOK. 

AVhen the friend, the foe, the .stranger, 
8weh thy lieart-aches more and more, 

'Tis the evening star of danger; 
There is era])e u])on the door. 

When the colioi'ts of secession 
Siege the port of hnman good, 

Drive the })icl<ets of ])rogression 
Back to ignorance's wood, 

Where tlie steely sliare of angui.sli 
Digs a fnrrow througli tlie hrain, 

When the ho])es tliat gnash and languish 
Are reported 'mongst the slain, 

When the patriot is sleeping 
On his downy sheet of gore. 

And our eyes grow lean witli weeping- 
There is eraiie U})on the door. 

When the bay of satisfaction, 

With its fleet of pleasures fraught, 
Wakes to equinoctial action 

'Neath September clouds of thought ; 
AVhen fell innuendo's cannon 

Is unliml)ered at the head, 
And we drift along a Shannon 

Of the flying waves of lead ; 
When the dreams of some snow-lover, 

O'er our pebbly musings ])Our, 



^riTKKK IS CI I A I' K ri'ox TIIK I)()()|;. 

A\'licii romance has lost its cover; 
There is crape upon tlie tloor. 

When the frothy tongue of slander 

Is protruding from the j'aws 
Of some jealous reprimander 

In a charitable cause ; 
When a patriachal lady 

•Spends a play-day in the grave, — 
'Neath the cypress, weird and shady. 

Picks the bones of glory's slave ; 
AVhen refinement galls the ashes 

( )f the gifted gone before 
AVith her poisoned cuts and lashes; 

There is crape upon the door. 

When we feel the blood-tears trickle 

Down the cheeks of blanching hearts, 
AMien we fall l)efore the sickle 

( )f dece[)tion's slings and darts, 
AVhen Ave shrink Ijeneatli a palace, 

Or a Juggernaut of crime, 
When we take the hemlock chalice 

From the trembling hand of time ; 
AVhen we vanish in the distance, 

When we leap from deatli's cold tloor 
Through the threshold of existence, 

There is crape upon the door. 



3:50 



PRIDE. 

Hail, luiil, l.auglity moiiavcli of error and eriiue. 
Hail, arrogant king of misfortune's bloak clime, 
Where vice's green ]>inions and inftimy's snow 
\yv the elements only that glitter and glow. 
Say, spirit of evil, wlience comes thy renown 
iVnd the jewels that tlash in thy glittering ci'own ? 
Not from the wide kingdonis ex])anding helow 
The dawnings of ])leasnre and sunsets of woe, 
Noi- regions celestial when' cheru])s unite 
To echo afar their wild dreams of delight ; 
But from the dark caverns of grief and des})air 
Spring the gems of delusion thy l)Osom doth wear : 
From regions infernal thy flag was unfurled 
And it swept, like a holt, o'er the brow of the world. 

Behold the dire phalanx of vanity fade. 

In all the regalia of fashion displayed, 

From the monarch with scepter aloft on his throne 

To the heggar that wanders all weary and lone. 

Oh ! the folly, the pomp, and the i)ageaiit, t)f pride, 

To the thousands that faltered, the millions that died. 

As frail and as fleeting to glory and thee, 

As the bubble that sits on the foam of the sea. 



i>iMDE. r;r]i 

Look down to tlu' hills of our own favored land 
"Where the chieftains who rule o'er America stand : 
Pride sits in the forums our nations afibrd 
And, e'en, on the altars where Clod is adored. 
Ah ! mark the poor creature that honors thy name, 
A waytarer lost on the highway of sliame, 
A wanderer far from the home he would find, 
A traitor to (lod, and a curse to mankind. 

(laze round on our })lanet from mountain to sea 
On the iron-mailed legions that 1)attle for thee : 
As tlie flowers of the valley unmind)ered and fair, 
As the lierds of the tield, and the flocks of the air, 
As the crystals of watei" in ocean displayed, 
Or the sands of tliat bed where tlu' ocean is laid, [high, 
Were tlie millions arrayed when thy banner waved 
Like a })haiitom of grief on the dome of the sky. 

Oh! wlien love, like tlie dove, flnds an ark in the soul, 
AVhat blissful compassion and meekness control. 
How, spreading her pinions in fanciful flight, 
She hails the fair morning ; — no sunset gives light 
To the mansions of gold and the hues of each shoal 
Where the darkening waves of our memories roll. 
Alas! when she thinks of the lam-els for man, [he ran, 
Through the grief and the blood in thy course which 
Far away soars the dove with a sanctified air, 
To chant a liosanna of " never despair." 



' >» > ■) 



riiiDio. 



list ! the threat of detianco that circles this liour, 
The fiat of vengaiice that rails at thy power. 
Yes! loose the fierce tiend of the far-i-agiiig storm, 
Till it deafen the sound of tlie tocsin's alarm. 
Till the heasts of the forest grow frantic and (.lie 
And the eagle he hurled from liis eyry on high : 
Let the tempest arise and the storm-demon sweep 
Till tlie lu'avens are enguH'ed in the waves of the di>ep. 

J^laze the hres of thy vengeance in darkness and dread 

Till creation he wild and yon ether l)e red , 

Heave the holts of thy wrath till they shatter tlie gloom 

Wliich nature consigns to the slec]) of the tomh, 

Till, volley on volley, and })eal upon i)eal, 

The mountains that rise on our planet shall reel, 

Yet, nnwav'ring and firm, this spirit of mine [pii^e; 

Should stand 'gainst thy hlast like the strong mountain 

AVhile legions, through elements wild and afar, 

( )hserve the ctt'ulgence of modesty's star. 

Like A^eniis aloft in the pitch of her flight, [niglit 

As she shone thi'ough the stars that convened in the 

Ivound Ik'thlehem's Savior, so meek and so fair. 

In the ocean of darkness that circled Him there, 

Bequeathing redemption to soothe and to heal 

The kiss of Iscarioth and Calvary's steel ; 

'When 'gainst lofty Heaven in terror's dark day 

Assembled hell's legions in jijigry array. 



O form of delusion ! come kneel at the grave 

Where the dark -rolling waters of vanity lave ; 

See the standard unfurled through the desolate night. 

The trumpet that wails through the pauses of fight, 

The poison of sin which embitters the mind 

And fosters ambition, that pest of mankind. 

Achillean justice, where then was thy power 

O'er the iiencl and the foe of this heart-rending hour, 

While the demon of vengeance swept wild o'er the plain 

Wliere the l)lood and the ])ones of the mangled remain, 

And the millions of slaugliter are red in their gore 

Wlio shall rush to the onset of battle no more? 

Again, my ])r()ud monarch, thy throne I assail 

And with tauntings I owe thee my bosom regale. 

Oh ! furnish a l)alm for each desolate heart, 

A joy for the jnuig of each death-dealing dart ; 

(iive cheer to that grief which thy votaries know, 

Give comfort to sorrow and solace to woe, 

Give peace and remission to sadness and sin, 

And melody teach to the wai'-trum])et's din; 

Go, wipe out tlie stain of that limitless flood 

Which ages have gathered of sacrificed blood : 

O lawless usurper! Give joy to (les[)air, 

Give peace to the victims of merciless care. 

Give back t<» our planet the millions who bled, 

With a curse on their tongues o'er the battlefields red; 

And oh I give to man what his forefathers lost, 



oiU I'RIDK. 

Ivestore to Omniscience the blood that it cost, 
Raise the ensign of j)eace o'er creation's wide span, 
And then, wretched demon, ask homage of man. 

do, sleep in the grave which thy courtiers have made 

And where in pale glory their ashe>s are laid ; 

Resign to thy rival thy pomp and thy crow]i 

And all the wild deeds of thy evil renown ; 

l.et her rise in her triumph on pinions of air 

And assume the rich garbs that her enemies wear : 

]\roi"e bright than the rainbow thy casket would be, 

And silenced thy wailings, wild nymph of the sea. 

Oh ! tlien, how fondly would bend at thy throne 

The hearts of the millions thy missiles have strown, 

To plant in their bosoms a souvenir sweet 

From the lx)Ughs of the ivy that springs at thy feet ; — 

And remember, proud monarch, the ivy sfiall twine 

Around every helmet and scepter of thine — 

AMiat legions would fly to love's trembling embrace, 

AMiat myriads leap up from the tond^ of our race, 

To ]-obe their new goddess in fantasy blessed 

And bestow her the power which her rival possessed. 

Remember, proud chieftain, that hour sliall ap})ear. 
Thine eye shall grow dim and shall nurture a tear, 
The dark weary rounds of thy life roll away, 
Like the mist of the morning, thy glory decay ; 
While modestv, clad in her raiment of gold, 



TlIK TKAXSFOIIMATIOX. ooO 

And wearing tlu' crown of her rival of old, • 
A phoenix of glory in splendor arrrayed, 
Shall arise from the dust where thy ashes are laid ; 
As elear as tlie noonday and high as the sun 
.Sliall wheel the wide circle thy ages have run. 
And shed from the bosom her children adore 
A smile from the millions that perish no more. 



TH E TK ANSFORMATTOX. 

Upon tliis circHng orb of ours 
They tell of two mysterious powers 
That on(;e appeared in Eden's bowers, 

J-^eraphic and sul)lime, 
When joy enthrone<l our infant sphere. 
And, spreading splendor far and near, 
Ascended on her wild career 

Tlie matin star of time. 

The first was framed of earthly mold, — 
Not diamond dust or gilded gold, 
Xor such as graced the marble cold 

Wlience l)reathing heroes spring. 
But of the clay that forms the frame 
AV^hicli wears the garl) and bears the name 
That once in Paradise l)ecame 

Creation's chosen king. 



'.]'■>() THK TRANSFORMATION. 

It claimed a pure and sweeter grace- 
Than rested on that hap])y place 
When Hope and Mercy came to trace- 

The home for them designed ; 
it wore the garh that millions wear, 
It hore the stamp that millions hear, 
It shared the doom that millions share,. 

And millions yet shall find. 

For cold and still the heart that lay 
Within that mystic form of clay, 
And pale those features that ])ortray 

The essence of his race ; 
Lifeless was each graceful limh. 
The orhs that gave him light were dim,. 
And death was there disrohing him 

Of glory and of grace. 

And, lo the other angel form, 

Majestic from tlie matchless Arm 

That called her forth and hade her warm* 

The creature she reveres! 
The seraphim her mantles hring, 
And cheruh choirs hei- ])raises sing, 
Immortal as the mighty King- 
That I'eared the I'olling s])heres. 



TJIK TKANSFOKMATK^X. 

More Ijright than suii.s that shine afar, 
8ublimer than the planets are, 
And fairer than the morning star 

Behold her splendors shine ; 
Enrobed within the golden cloud 
Of serapli love, sweet, pure, and proud. 
The gilded glories that enshroud 

Omnipotence Divine. 

That clay-cold form this spirit views, 
While grief and love her soul diffuse 
In sym[)athy's eml)alming dews 

Above that marble mold. 
And long in solitude's wild steeps 
And mute unconsciousness she weeps 
The silence of the heart that sleeps 

In sluml)ers long and cold. 

But now l)clio]d while gazing there 
The changes in that vision fair 
Ordained by heavenly i)Owcr to wear 

The handiwork of God ; — 
O wondrous metamorphosis! 
It pledges in an hour like this 
An immortality of t)liss 

To that uncoiisious clod. 



oo.S LIJs'ES AT A (VrTUAX's (iRAVK. 

In peace, and love, and grace, and niiglit, 
Those kindred elements nnite, 
And al] the world is robed in light 

The spirit change to scan, 
While angels in exultant hours, 
Advised. by more omniscient powers, 
Descend to Eden's happy bowers 

To bless the home of MAN. 



LINES AT A ('YPRIAN'S (JHAX^E. 

Pale ashes, may a stranger glance 

In thy dead face? 
I'ldioly 'twere that rude advance 
Should desecrate the pallid trance 
That girdles round thy soul's ex])anse 

In tins lone place. 

Thy bosom that so fondly lieaved 

Is pulseless now ; 
And all that thou hast ever grieved 
Who trusted, loved, or disbelieved, 
Have left their shipwreck unperceived 

On thv cold brow. 



LINES AT A CVPHIAX'S (JKAVK. 339 

Spumed plaything of a tlioiisaiid men, 

Abandoned clay, 
Like pinks in girlhood's sunny glen 
Could thy young charms l:)ut Ijlooni again, 
Perhaps the moths that fluttered then 

Would wing to day. 

Of all who ever shared the cheer 

( )f thy bright hour, 
There is not one who lingers near 
Thy bloodless dust. There is no tear 
To balm the melancholy jeer 

Of this dead flower. 

Where is thy father? AVliere is she 

Who bore and bred, 
Elately dandling on her knee 
The future waif of misery ? 
Where may all thy dear ones be, 

Far from the dead ? 

Blown blossom from the fragrant bough 

Thy mother gave, 
Why will the world revile thee now, — 
E'en those base worms, more lost than thou. 
And why should hide thy l)eauteous brow 

A l)eggar's grave ? 



840 LINKS AT A (YrRlAN's (illAVII 

Tlioii luust aiiorded doiil)tl'ul joy 

To all who sought : 
Will none I'espect the hroken toy 
That gave them pleasure? Love's alloy 
(_)fsii] Averi' null, ift eould destroy 

The coffin thought. 

Shall we i'xhaust tlie elnistian store 

Of nierey here? 
Shall charity close up the door 
Against the clay that sins no more, 
Or cheat the heart wliose aches are o'er^ 

Of one ])ure teai\ 

Jvcmiss in love, and wild in wine. 

Frail, fa(K'<l girl ! 
How many a ivvel has heeii thine, 
Since that sweet hour of auld lang syne 
When. Heaven to childhood did eonsign 

Thy soul's rare ]»earl? 



Thou hast known all that life can know 

( )f joy and gall : 
Hast ti-am])led virtue, chaste as snow 
l)t'cend)er's ehristiiuis nudnights l)low, 
I^egi'imed and stained, all lilaek l)elow 

The harlot's ])all. 



LINKS AT A CVl'lilAN's (illANK. ;]4;1 

And when lier womanliood grew sick. 

Of life aghast, 
Fatigued ahke of tiask and cliiiuc. 
Of gaudy rohe, and flimsy ti'ick, 
i5he Ht with poison love's last wick, 

And death came past. 

Ui)on her heaving l)Osom, some 

Have swooned them long, 
In paroxysmal pleasure dund), — 
To virtue and religion, mind) 
As was herself. Why not now eomc 

To rhyme death's song? 

In that hyemal, l)ittei- idght 

When all grew eohl 
That once in her was warm and l)right 
As vernal noonday's zenith light, 
How did the angels disunite 

Her dross and gold ? 

Did elves and houris wave tlie wing- 
To guide her on 

Far upM'ard from the cesspool spring 

Of years, to which she would not cling; 

Or hideous, cursing demons sting 
The spirit one? 



'M"! I>IXKS AT A CYI'KIAn's (iltAVK. 

Doivs slie enjoy .soiuo Iji'oad alxxlo 

111 ( Jod's mild j^ky ; 
Or are lier errors such a load 
Slie may not reacli Ijeyoiid the node 
Ivemorse dis])lays long all lliy road, 

intern it y? 

High in tlic s('ra]»li's golden parks 

She lunv may dwell, 
To Avatch the robins and the larks 
In Heaven : or haply she remarks 
From brimstone nooks the blackened barks 

Afloat in hell. 

Slu' may possess the sweetest smile 

To love allied ; 
Or, potent still for ill or guile, 
Nude siren on some white-hot isle, 
She may be queen of all the vile 

That ever died. 

Yet no. Though soiled, dcsjiiscil, and naught. 

In man's hard mind. 
Such erring ones the Savior sought. 
Thy soul's salvation Jesus wrought. 
And joy is thine, since hell is hot. 

And Ood is kind. 



343 



THE PAINTINi;. 

Tliore's u iVcirrior aslco]) on the l)anks of St. Fraiu-is 
Who, once in the phalanx of hberty's lances, 

Seemed l)right as the eagle that glanced on his lireast, 
iVnd fresh as the bloom of the new-budded roses 
That rock o'er the clay where the hero re])Oses, 

To shed their pure tears o'er tlie grass-covered guest. 

There's an old man (le})ressed ])y some hurdi'U of sorj'ow. 
Who looks on his gi'ave o'er the wall of to-morrow 

With an ominous gaze through the awnings of age : 
He heeds not the kiss of the velvet-cheeked breezes,. 
And he looks on the birds as they thread the tall trees as 

lleminders of one in his <lust-covered cage. 

There's another crisped gray, like the Hower on the 

mountain, 
A picture of grief, for the deep seated fountain 

That flowed from the vale of her bosom is dried, 
And the gilt of her life disappears from its edges. 
As she fancies the fortress, the brake, and the sedges, 

That designate still the low spot where he died. 

There's an empty-eyed woman, a lily-browed maiden, 
A sister whose heart with its grief overladen, 



■ 144. carhjkk's address koi; l<S()i)-7(). 

(Joes down in the waves of her foani-featlieitd woe: 
The June of existence is bleak as Decemlter, 
And of all liei- warm hopes, the last feeble ember 

({rows cold as her liearthstone and pale as the snow. 

There's somewhere a eot in ( 'olunibia's valleys [rallies, 
Wliere, while freedom still bleeds, and the soldiei' still 

This four-visaged ])ainting dotli look from the wall. 
() heirs of the future! If slander should lash us, 
When the eoals of our lives are asleep in their ashes, 

Remember the frame in your forefather's hall. 



CARHIEK'S ADDRESS FOR l8()5)-70. 

A glad New Year, a bliss refined, 

May each and all enjoy : 
A golden heart and silver mind, 
Serenely, sweetly entertwined, 
Let this inclement morning find 
In each chaste bosom that is kind 
To your poor carrier bov. 

Let cheer assume her lofty place 
Where cherubs love to stray, 

( dad fortune run a sumiy race 
^\'ith features sweetly gay: 



carrier's address for 1869-70 345 

Nor let one line of sadness trace 
Your hearts and homes of peace and grace, 
But a smile sit king of each fair face 
That looks on me to-day. 

Last night at twelve a babe was born : 
We chant his name and fame this morn 

In his cradle lowly set ; 
And well it were, might we adorn 

The stranger we have met, 
For other other days might seem forlorn, 
If now we fail to sound that horn 

Must rouse the chieftain yet. 

So calm is his blue eye, so mild. 
So beauteous, and so unbeguiled, 
That scarce is reason reconciled 

With fancy's vague employ ; 
On castles in the future piled 
All disproportioned, weird, and wild, 
Baptizing his unconscious child 

In the Jordan of its joy. 

Last night at twelve an old man died. 

We heard him breathe his last, 
We marked his dark and sullen pride 

On his midnight deathbed cast. 



346 carrier's ADDRESS FOR 1869-70. 

" Ah ! " swollen- veined and stony-eyed, 
" Is this the dream of life ? " he cried ; 
And, rolling on his azure side, 
He drifted to the past. 

It seemed so strange to see him sick, 

Who lived so proud till now, [quick, 

When the pulse grew lame which was once so 
When the last spark flew from life's pale wick, 
When his heart- wheels clicked their last faint click, 
And the starry sweat stood cold and thick 
Along his frozen brow. 

Another is what he has been. 
Inherits all he toiled to win 

Through age, and youth, and prime ; 
Another whale has worn its fin, 
Another worm crawled out to spin 

Its silk in some new clime. 
Another leaf has lost its kin, 
Another drop gone down the linn. 
Another sand's unchained from sin, 
And another block is fitted in 

The monument of time. 

But now he's gone, and let him roll 
Along his specter track ; 



carrier's address for 1869-70. 347 

For there are those to his far goal 

The voyage would not slack, 
Or seize the gray hairs of his poll 

To pluck the wanderer back. 

No tear fell from the summer shower 

On that dead friend of mine ; 
No blossom sat within the bower, 

No cluster on the vine; 
But, by some freak of nature's power. 
The whole broad earth was one white flower, 
When, in the still and solemn hour, 

They buried '69. 

Though cold thyself, yet unexpired, 

What memories round thee cling, 
What mystic changes have transpired, 

What anthems did we ring. 
Since thy possessions new-acf|uired. 
In all thy robes of wealth attired. 
And, by thy lithe ambition fired, 

Thou gav'st thy falcon wing. 
How many tasted undesired 

Misfortune's waspy sting ; 
Thy throne of glass, what hordes admired 

Since nature crowned thee king. 

The maid that was, is now a wife, 
With a thorn in her mind ; 



348 carrier's address for 1869-70. 

New tilings have l^ubbled into life 
On the surface of mankind, 

Poor privates in the cheerless strife, 
Too often they must find, — 

Before them gulf and battle-knife, 
And the plains of peace behind. 

And some that we have seen and prized 

In the merry days of old, 
Some being we have idolized 

AVith a love we never told, 
Rare gems that once we recognized 

No more shall we behold. 
In masks of clay their brows are guised, 
Their spirit dreams are realized, 
Their sacred dust is canonized. 

And their crumbling hearts are cold. 

Within the arms of this small year. 
How vast a shade of varying cheer 

Each one of us hath found : 
The smile of love has dried the tear 
From the sallow cheek and rain}^ sphere, 
And all again was ftiir and clear 

As the waltzing weeks went round ; 
The tale of friends we deemed sincere , 

Was but an empty sound. 



carrier's address for 1869-70. 349 

Some hearts have proved that might be dear 
But shoals and reefs of hate and fear, 
While some, we wish to-day were here, 
Are planted in the ground. 

And stouter frames have felt the jerk 

Thy giant tingers gave ; 
The conquered Crete and cruel Turk 

Are master still aiid slave: 
Deception's arm has bared its dirk, 
Some limbs were lopjied from court and kirk ; 
Within our chambers long did lurk 

Some confidential knave, 
And a shameless ghoul has been at work 

In the uncomplaining grave. 

New martyrs have been sought and crowned, 
And new disciples have been found 

To thunder freedom's bells. 
At once potential and profound. 
From clime to clime the peal goes round. 
And tyrants tremble at the sound 

That shakes their citadels. 
For, like the earthquake 'neath the ground, 
Still liberty shall burst its bound 

AncI cast her broken shells ; 
Her victim sons shall deal the wound. 
And ftir those names shall yet resound 



350 carrier's address for 1869-70. 

Whose patriot hearts to-day are drowned 
In Albion's iron hells. 

Old, absent year! We know too late 

Thy worth intrinsic when 
Thy life has paid its debt to late : 
But now, that thou hast left a mate 
To sail our barge, transport our freight, 

And guide us once again. 
Where shall we build and re-create, 
And where begin to celebrate 
The truly good and truly great 

Of nations and of men ? 

We need not 'mong the stranger seek 

For one that is more grand ; 
Nor need we shift to times antique, 
On some far-famed Olympian peak 

Triumphantly to stand ; 
For there are words that we might speak 
In the beauteous growth and life unique 

Of our own unrivaled land. 
With its snow-paint on her mountain cheek 

And the olive in her hand. 

Ah ! lonely is thy maiden mien. 

At morning, noon, and vesper, seen * 

In sadness or in mirth. 
And proud be he this New Year's e'en 



carrier's address for 1869-70 351 

Who loved thee from his hirth. 
Vain empires lose their tinsel sheen 
Beside thy robes of living green, 
For, sweet Columbia, thou art queen 

Of all the realms of earth. 

And in the year that is now gone 

How great has been thy gain ; 
The blood that smoked thy face upon 

Was washed in mercy's rain ; 
Thy scars are healing one by one, 

And passing is thy pain, 
Despite the tears of sullen John 

Across the briny main. 
Or the black intrigue of knave and don 

On the martial hills of Spain. 

Beside thy blue, and white, and red. 

This day of thy romance. 
How thinly worn the standard shred 

That other lands advance : 
Beside the plumes that overspread 
The heavenly bird that brings thee bread. 

In the atmosphere of chance, 
How barbarous is the languid tread 

Of Russia's Cossack lance 
The badge of Austria's martial dead, 

Or the oriflamme of France. 



352 carrier's address for ] 869-70. 

Long ma}^ our nation thrive and teem 

And fling her foeman hack : 
And now, my patrons, let us deem 
This day's festivities heseem 

No spirit dressed in hlack. 
How often still, in thought or dream, 
We followed on some fitful gleam 

Along our airy track, 
To-day Ave light another beam, 
To-day we sail another stream, 
To-day your carrier's wandering theme 

Comes home to Fond du Lac. 

Dear shelter of our fond ones, may 
Thy bouyant heart be ever gay ; 
In all our state from bay to bay 

Where folly frets or foams, 
'Mong all the towns that lead the way^ 
In homespun garb or spruce array. 
With thy broad aisles and temples gray 

And heaven-aspiring domes, 
Whate'er thy envious sisters say. 
We find but one we must obey : 
Thou rulest, empress-like, to-day 

Wisconsin's hills and homes. 

We pride in thee that thou hast will 
In toil and art to show thy skill, 



carrier's address for 1869-70. 353 

By justice, fame, PvDcI stealth, 
At every turn along thy rill. 
To stretch the bridge and build the mill ; 
We pride in thee that we fulfill 

The laws of hope and health. 
Thou hast the blood that will not chill, 
'Tis here each .Jack can have his gill, 
'Tis thou that dost thy friend no ill, 
'Twas thou gav'st birth to Gertie Hill, 
Thou lofty star, ascending still, 

To light our commonwealth. 



Again a glad new year to all ; 

A thousand times and more, 
From home to home and hall to hall. 

We greet you o'er and o'er. 
For rich and poor, and great and small, 
Let kindliness build such a wall 

As never rose before. 
We need it on our moody ball, 
We need it when we slip and fall, 
We need it in some sudden squall 

That makes our senses sore ; 
We need its aid in jibe and brawl, 
We need it when sin's sirens call. 
We need it when our ills grow tall, 
We need it round our cups of gall, 



354 carrier's address for 1869-70. 

We need it when they bear some pall 
Forever from our door. 

Adieu ! Kind patrons, there are those 

Along your lengthy line 
That have presented many a rose 

To garnish me and mine. 
To-day your goblet overflows 

With pleasure's dancing wine; 
When once again we tread these snows, 
For you, dear friends, may '70 close 
With all the joys but not the woes, 

That chequered '69. 



LAKE DE NEVEU. 

Sweet lake, in the shade of thy willow-edged shore, 
I love to look long on thy beauty once more, 
For thou hast been dear in a summer of yore 

To a bosom whose fondness I knew. 
Let me look on thy dimples, thou beautiful lake, 
Let no rash intruder my ecstasy break ; 
I would muse all alone for the memory's sake 

Of the maid I have loved on th}^ banks, De Neveu. 

Ye gay little birds, come and help me to sing, 
Lend me a plume from each frolicsome wing. 



LAKE DENEVEU. OOO 

That I may soar far o'er the turrets of spring, 

In your sky-cinctured playground of bhie. 

I would gather a wreath from each valley and hill, 

My heart with remembrances fondly to fill. 

Of one whose affection was saintlier still [Neveu. 

Than thy silver transparence, dear Lake De 

Spangle, bright water ! Say, dost thou yet know 

How she gazed on thy weaves with a rapturous glow, 

As she nestled beside me in days long ago 

With a heart that was only too true ? 

Swinging far down in thy liquid embrace, 

I saw the fond sun kiss thy silvery face : 

I, too, stole a kiss from affectionate grace 

That smiled at my side by thy shore, De Neveu. 

Kings may be happy in castles of gold. 

Rhymers be glad for the songs they have trolled, 

And tyrants rejoice when laudhigly told 

Of those fountains that manhood renew. 

No laurel for me of the king, or the bard ; 

Give me the green palace my soul can regard 

Of thy soft mossy shore and thy flower-jeweled 

sward. 
And the lady I wooed by the l)lue De Neveu. 

All ! the spell is long l;)roken, the pleasure long past ; 
A cloud o'er my present and future is cast, 



356 THE LAST WOMAN. 

All alone I am gazing upon thee at last 
Where she and I gazed in the days I review. 
My gauzy romance of existence is o'er ; 
I wander in dreamland and rapture no more, 
As once I could roam on thy forest-fringed shore, 
When Heaven was so near thee, sweet Lake* 
De Neveu. 



THE LAST WOMAN. 

This orb and all it ever bore, 

Must couple with decay, 
Before that lady's precious ore 

Is sifted from its clay. 
Sweet Campbell, sleep a rosy sleep. 
And let with thine my spirit " sweep. 

Adown the gulf of time," 
To see this last of human mold. 
When dame creation's self is old, 
Her stormy death that shall behold: 

As Eve her blossom j^rime. 

A blade, that maid, a straw still lost 

On nature's stubble-field, 
A rose Ijefore the warrior, frost, 

Without her sunny shield. 
Her fear lay dungeoned in her breast, 



THE LAST WOMAN. 

-And he that stood beside her guessed 

The siin-ghiss of her pride ; 
'■' What siren hand o'ersweeps the chord 
'That snows thy face so deep, my lord, 
Plucks wary courage from his ward, 
And manhood from thy side ? 

'" What tire usurps such fierce control 

And wakes a heat so high 
As melts the substance of thy soul 

And sucks it through thine eye? 
Rip off that rope despondence winds 
Around the necks of subtle minds 

Celestial as the spheres ; 
Oh ! keep that burglar from the heart, 
Let woman play the tragic part ; 
"'Twas Eve invented the shrewd art 

Of coining silver tears. 

"No, no, my trembling lord ; alas, 

That e'er that task were thine ! 
'Tis mine to brew the last cursed glass 

Of sorrow's salty wine. 
Ha ! let us note this wild ado, 
•Some awful wind is sweeping through 

The forest of the air ; 
Observe the ether oak in grief, 
»See how some unsubstantial thief 



358 THE LAST WOMAN. 

Rends off each golden planet leaf 
And strips its branches bare. 

" No longer swings athwart yon prow 

The anchor chains of crime, 
And a flag of truce is flying now 

From the mizzen mast of Time. 
Oh ! what a vast she voyaged o'er ! 
Far, far, upon that other shore 

Mortality began, 
Where practiced once their simple glee 
The may-quetns of humanity ; 
But you and I are Y and Z 

In the alphabet of man. 

" The moon is flung upon the ground 

From gravitation's back ; 
No more she wheels her charger round 

His orby, azure track. 
Of shame, of sorrow, and of sin. 
The dark accounts are balanced in 

The last bleak sheet of Fate, 
And miser Time o'er his green purse 
Rails at the dying universe ; 
Eternity, who drives his hearse, 

Is waiting at the gate. 

" Creation trails her somber gown 
Along the tomb of space, 



THE LAST WOMAN. 359 

And starry tears are stealing down 

Her penitential face. 
The wave forgets to rise and ebb, 
The spider now to weave his web, 

The timid fawn his rest. 
The nightingale heeds not to sing. 
The chicken flower the cluck of spring. 
And the eagle flaps his feeble wing 

Within his mountain nest. 

" The ant discards his trusty spade, 

The wasp her pungent wedge 
And the lute on which the linnet played 

Is tuneless in the hedge. 
Magician Death's grim wand is stirred, 
And goldfinch Now, the last sweet bird 

In the flock of ages, flown ; 
The lion seeks his cave to die. 
The silk-worm seals her watery eye, 
And sick Ambition hobbles by 

A scepter and a throne. 

" The minstrel siren's green abode 

Breeds rapture in the furze, 
But the one-string fiddle of the toad 

Is just as loud as hers ; 
The avalanche must have his freak. 
And on the Alpine virgin's cheek 



360 THE LAST WOMAN. 

He banks his drifting hail ; 
The hurricane with all his will 
Is whistling through his ebon bill, 
The minnow comes from Guayaquil 

To wrestle Hudson's whale. 

" Medina pools a cuckoo's egg 

And swears by woolly Pan 
She will hop further on one leg 

Than Rome or London can ; 
Yon elephant is lost in love, 
Hear how he vows to all above 

That mouse must be his bride ; 
This squeaking cricket, and this earth, 
The pussy author of his birth, 
Are frantic o'er their ravished mirth 

And gasping side by side. 

" It wrings my heart to see this rout. 

Must all this beauty die ? 
Is there no drug that can wash out 

This cancer from the sky ? 
See yonder snow-faced mountains waltz, 
While limber J^^tna somersaults 

O'er Chimborazo's head ; 
Oh, what a friglitful holiday ! 
See schoolboy ocean frisk and play ; 
He would not give a Lapland fay 

For all a Plato read. 



THE LAST WOMAN. 361 

" What is that gourmand whose red hps 

Are sore against my siglit, 
That picks np Europe by the hips 

In one delirious bite? 
The whirlwind in his hot career 
Shakes his black engine out of gear, 

And checks his tempest cars ; 
The boiling cataracts meet and greet, 
Their brains are full of strange conceit, 
And up the skies they madly fleet 

To Avash the scurvy stars. 

'' Too far beyond our spirits' reach 

This drama that we see ; 
Is this the mellowing of the peach 

That grew on Eden's tree ? 
Ah, let us here no longer dwell, 
All, all is madness, all is hell, 

Mad Nature foams and raves ; 
The stained and pure, the damn'd and just, 
The very dead, upon whose dust 
The rotten ages heaped their rust, 

Are leaping from their graves. 

" Stay not for me one moment more. 

Black night succeeds the day, 
And I will close the curtains o'er 

The windows of thy clay. 



S&2 THE EXCURSION. 

But when thou art where thou art not^ 
Choose on the road some sunny spot : 

Flit round that grassy sod ; 
Nor fear I shall delay you long ; 
Whence, chanting some befitting song,. 
Together will we pass along 

The judgment halls of God." 



THE EXCURSION. 

So NEAR our sphere in caudal flame 

Of recent years, a comet came, 

That fear o'ershadowed man awhile 

From snow-crowned clift to sea-girt isle, 

Absorbing all in sullen gloom 

To wait the world's approaching doom. 

'Twas at this time I chanced to stray 
Among the hills one autumn day, 
And in my frolic rambles far 
Communed with field, and flood, and star, 
I saw a man enrobed in black. 
The Pilgrim's Progress on his back : 
A coral cane was in his hand 
That service did in many a land, 
A cylinder upon his head 



THE EXCURSION. 363- 

Of fur that warmed the beaver's bed ; 

A standing collar pearly white, 

And orbs he wore to mend his sight ; 

A shoddy coat of flimsy wool 

That fleeced the sheep of Johnny Bull ; 

His bending masts and spheral sails, 

A garment putted with fartliingales. 

Thus gayly robed he jogged along 

And jigged aloud some happy song. 

To where I stood the stranger came ; 

I made my bow, inquired his name. 

Observed his garb and something said 

About his tube-encircled head. 

Asked why he looked so spruce and gay, 

And where he went that autumn day. 

" To Heav'n where yon bright stars reside 

My course is far," the man replied. 

" This day my friend arrives the hour 

When old vain earth sliall know her power 

And madam nature must deplore 

The luckless child that lives no more. 

The comet greets the world to day, 

The age of man has passed'away. — 

Oh ! prize the hours that hurry on 

Before thy glass of time is run." 

With anxious look and earnest eye 

He sighed adieu and ambled^by. 



364 THE EXCURSION. 

For present use and future store 
A motley pack the stranger bore. 
The task was hard, the journey long 
He must have food to keep him strong ; 
A slice of ham might useful be, 
A steak of beef, a cap of tea, 
A loaf of l)read, a roll of rye, 
A ginger cake, and pumpkin pie. 
Some luscious fruit both rich and ripe, 
A match or two to light his pipe, — 
A thousand useful little things 
For future use the stranger brings. 

A pocket knife when he must eat 
He brought along to carve his meat, 
A bar of soap to wash his face 
When he approached the land of grace, 
And, to make him gay, and keep him frisky 
A spacious jug of high-proof whisky. 
When one goes far to some strange land 
He should have such as these at hand, 
And surely he who sought the sphere 
Where things like these, jjerhaps, are dear. 

In this odd plight he wandered on, 
I watched his form till it was gone : 
With high-heeled boots and crinoline 
The stranger urged his wide design, 



THE EXCURSION. 365 

While lips unconscious nursed a smile 
To dream o'er whims those men beguile, 
Who wisely flee this vale of crime 
Before the Lord's appointed time, 
From that plain way which God has given 
Project an air-line route to Heaven ; 
Then pleasure's course my path pursued 
In sober thought and pensive mood. 

But far in realms above our sphere 

I saw the blazing orb appear. 

In frantic freak, like ocean whale, 

He foamed the skies around his trail. 

His surging robes of flame unfurled, 

Fast onward came the burning world : 

The more I looked, the more my eyes 

Beheld the troops of terror rise. 

My scornful heart, hadst thou but heard 

That stranger's monitory word, 

Thou mightst not know an hour like this 

Nor stalk in tears for deeds amiss. 

O soul of mine ! where are the toys 

That feed the forms of faded joys 

And tempted me so many a year 

To slight the truths I should revere ? 

Couldst thou not heed, so keenly cold. 

The fate to thee that fortune told ? 

Hadst thou thy coach of prudence driven 

Thou mighst ere now b.e half to Heaven." 



366 THE EXCURSION. 

I looked again and much surprised 
Saw that strange form my fears disguised. 
'Twas nothing but a railway train 
Upon the track of nature's plain 
That jo}^ dispatched from polar hight 
To see his lands and leave them right. 
Go on, thou fool, along the way 
Which tired and lone thou go'st to-day ; 
Perhaps thy enterprising soul 
May soon descry the shining goal, 
Perhaps, with hope and courage high, 
With tipsy head and reeling eye, 
Thou'lt climb to glory by and by. 
The man went on, but he went slow. 
Proceed the tale and let him go. 

The train slowed up as she drew near 
The ha^f-way house of Adam's sphere, 
And loud a voice proclaimed afar, 
*' Free passage to the polar star." 
The hope was high, the field was fair, 
In skies to ride the chanco was rare, 
The feat was new, the fare was free, 
And I resolved the skies to see. 

The steam-pipe loosed its thunder tongue, 
The creaking Irakes were soon unsprung ; 
Awav, awav from human kind 



THE EXCURSION. 367 

My native hills glide far behind. 
The engine heaves her plunging form 
Beyond the clouds that hide the storm, 
And, skipping round his roomy hall, 
Old earth is but a tennis ball. 

I straggled out among the cars, 
My congees made to passing stars. 
And smiled on friends I chanced to see 
Upon the train that carried me ; 
Nor wandered far at leisure pace 
Ere I beheld, in martial grace, 
A famous form my youth had known, 
Who walked his round, a sentry Ion©. 
His garb was dark, except his vest, 
And that excelled a pheasant's breast ; 
His face bespoke a mighty heart, 
The highest tower of warlike art, 
No less a soul than Bonaparte. 
The foremost brakeman on the cars, 
A foster-son of Uncle Mars, 
The jest of envy's fane of slander 
Was th' glassy ghost of Alexander ; 
And, second in that comet home. 
The steeple warrior of Rome. 
But now my eyes were glad, and, oh ! 
My soul was drowned in joy to know, 
'Mid all the mighty gathered here. 



368 THE EXC'rRSI()]S'„ 

Our president and engineer 

Was freedom's sire, and glory's son, 

Columbia's patriot, Washington. 

The fireman's form was last in view; 

His manly face at once I knew, 

Far now removed from earth's capriee, 

Themistocles, the child of Greece. 

He seized my hand with joyful clasp 

And I returned the ardent grasp. 

We smoked our pipes and talked together 

About the ride, and skies, and weather. 

But here we ceased our conversation, 

For the bell announced some railway station, 

I looked around and saw full soon 

A country town they call the Moon. 

The engine stopped to cool awhile, 

And purchase water, coal, and " ile," 

While peddlers came with sundry packs 

To sell us some of their kniekknacks; 

I only bought a piece of pie. 

And gla&s of ale for I was dry. 

When time was up, at signal toll, 
The wheels once more l)egan to roll, 
And far awa^^ o'er mead and hill, 
Our comet train was heaving still. 
I thought of friends I left that day, 



THE EXCURSKJN. 369 

(3f liome and country far away, 
And of the fields, so fair and far, 
That*must surround yon polar star. 

Thus musing on my situation 
The bell proclaimed another station. 
They told me Venus was the name, 
A handsome maid ot ancient fame. 
In silks arrayed and satins fine 
And circled wide with crinoline. 
A single glance at her attire 
Completely set my soul afire. 
And sped that thrill of beauty's glow 
Which only those desci'ibe that know. 
The fireman was a heartless lad ; 
His coldness made my bosom sad, 
For our fleet train through azure sky 
In chill neglect went steaming by. 
E'en there within that waste of air 
Should one delay to court the fair. 

Our train moved on, lier time to keep, 
But I was tired and fell asleep. 
In cozy rest I slumbered well 
Till rung again the signal bell. 
This town was Mercury of yore, 
A harbor on some foreign shore. 
It seems it was so near the sun 



§70 THE EXCURSION. 

Their water there was nearh^ none, 
And the few pails they had arranged 
In cooler shades, to steam was changed. 
But the}' who flourished there were handy 
And in its stead made use of brandy. 
This was the town where Bacchus came 
In mystic days of Grecian fame. 
When barleycorn was malted not, 
He shantied on this little spot, 
With tipsy hopes of high renown 
To build a hut and found a town. 
'Tis here he still in glory dwells. 
With magic dream his bosom swells, 
And nectar from artesian wells; 
Plays out the bower and ace of trumps, 
And drinks his wine with suction pumps. 

Once more the cars went o'er the deep ; 
So I lay down to have my sleep. 
And cozily reposed until 
The whistling train was drawing still. 
I think this town was called the Sun. 
The people there were full of fun. 
Some played on fiddles, some on lyres, 
And some were busy building fires. 
'Twas here I met a friend of mine, 
Old Dandy Jim from "Caroline;" 
We had a whiff and took a glass, 



THE EXCURSION. 371 

And sat ourselves upon the grass ; 
T?hen we enjoyed a pleasant stroll 
And played three games of pigeon hole. 
Indeed 'twas frolicsome to view 
The sportive lads this city knew. 
'Tis here the heroes dance and sing 
Who once adorned the British ring, 
Who far from their own planet shore 
In their last box shall box no more ; 
'Tis here where gayest souls convene 
Presides our frank and gallant queen 
Whose fame bestows the highest boon 
To him who makes the best buffoon 
"Or chants in true Cervantic stanza 
The blanket freaks of Sancho Panza. 

'They switched the train at this strange station 
And backward turned to cross creation. 
The port and maid were passed full soon 
And in due time we reached the moon ; 
Then on my native village ground 
I heard once more the words resound. 
They wished to rest ere they prepare 
Again to tread the tracks of air 
And take some fire and liquid on, 
To meet their wants while they were gone 
Upon the trackless region far 
That intercept the borean star. 



372 THE exci;ksi()n. 

When setting out to meet the sun, 

Along tlie road I liad no pun, 

Because there was no maid along 

To play a tune or sing a song ; 

But now more wise from having learned' 

A lesson that so much concerned, 

I sought to make my error good 

And, while the hands were loading wood, 

Resolved to do the best I could. 

There was a certain lady near 

That filled my mind for many a year. 

That fledged my soul and fii-ed my dreams, 

And walked with me by pleasant streams, — 

I asked her if she would agree 

To tour the skies along with me, 

To my surprise, for one so young 

She answered in a classic tongue 

And set my anxious heart aglow 

To hear her sweetly answer " No." 

'Twas Avell for me in earlier days 

That I was schooled in foreign phrase,, 

And could translate the ancient Greek 

That nature tints on woman's cheek. 

For I had learned l.y instinct, art 

That something stamps within the heart., 

The Latin no which they express, 

In English term, is rendered yes : 

So when I heard her kind reply 



THE EXCURSION. 373 

My heart was filled with transport high. 
We took our places on the train 
And in the skies I road again. 
As we went on among the sturs 
I took her out among the cars 
And introduced her to the few 
That cleft with us the- azure hlue. 
Each took her hand in kind surprise 
That she was pleased to patronize 
The train he rode upon so long, 
While she gave thanks and sang a song ; 
But now of all the great and gay 
That she admired that happy day - 
Amid the famed assemblage here, 
She saw and knew the engineer, 
And long she viewed with visage warm 
The chieftain's mild and manly form. 

'Our observations here were closed. 
For now in air the train reposed. 
' The people called this station Mars, 
-By many known as god of wars, 
A gruff old man with temples gray 
From whom we joyed to steam away ; 
And once again the train set out, 
The steam-pipe puffing fast and stout. 
-Around us was a lonely lake, 
-By hills enclosed and fringed with brake 



374 THE EXCURSIOX. 

And, swimming round those ether voids^ 

A kind of tish called asteroids. 

This was the dark and gloomy water 

That once enshrined Lord Allen's daughter^ 

As our dull ride was rough and strong 

I asked the girl to sing a song. 

The lovely lay was scarcely sung 

Ere once again the hell was rung, 

And now, before our weary eyes, 

The domes of Jupiter arise, 

With lofty towers and castles fine, 

A famous jjlace l)eyond the Rhine. 

It was not long before I saw 

The place was under martial law, 

And there along the picket line 

I recognized a friend of mine 

Whose sable hue and woolly head 

Kept watch and ward as Uncle Ned. 

We would have joyed this town to A'iew 
But the train went off and we went too. 
Along the route no scene occurred 
To tell a tale or claim a word. 
And I sat down to read awhile 
That I might there the hours beguile. 
Once more aloud the whistle blew ; 
Of course I went the place to view. 
Young Saturn showed his smiling face 



THE EXCURSION. 375 

And welcomed us with courtier grace. 
His noble brow was broad and high, 
In some bold deed he lost an eye ; 
His graceful form was richly dressed, 
And two gold rings his fingers pressed. 
The choicest one of purest pearl, 
With gracious heart he gave our girl, 
Who gajdy still the trophy wears, 
A token of creation's airs. 

We bade our generous friend adieu 
And on our way sped out anew. 
Old Herschel's form we hailed at last ; 
In some strange mold of fancy cast, 
A noseless knave, both deaf and dumb,; 
Besides a leg, he lost a thumb. 
Being stern of soul, and not impartial,. 
He proved to be a provost marshal ; 
The wily rogue was arch and sly 
So we kept still and passed him Ijy. 

And now the shades of night set in. 

Despite the planetary din ; 

But ere as yet the morning broke 

Another town the bell besj)oke. 

This was the place that poets sing 

As water-god or ocean king, 

Old Neptune, gorgeous and sublime;, 



376 THE EXCURSION. 

Unbitten by the tooth of time; 
A seaport town and desert strand 
Beyond the bourn, of fairy land. 

'Tis there 1 saw a stranger form 
In liigh debate and passion warm, 
And hector hmguage rude and rough, 
Accusing one Jack Fisticuff 
Of certain misdemeanors wrought 
By Jack's new water power of thought. 
And wild aljout some royal tea 
This rowdy tipped in Neptune's sea. 
I thought I saw the man before. 
And closely eyed him o'er and o'er. 
By sheepskin breeches he had on, 
I knew it must be neighbor John 
Who keeps a small shebeen beyond. 
Old Yankee Doodle's fishing pond. 

He was a man of sportive turn. 

Wild in his breast did passion burn ; 

In selfish mood for many a day 

He kept his house in st3dish way. 

And oft assailed some fistic fop 

That, seeking pleasure in his shop, 

Politely took a little drop ; 

For Johnny's friends, good-natured men, 

Would take a jigger now and then ; 



THE EXCURSION. 377 

But, innocently taking more 

Than artless confidence could store, 

Conviviality displayed 

In brazen-browed fanfaronade 

The demon wile of Johnny's trade, 

Till boast on boast, like Alps, arose, 

Protruding high, compelling those 

Who met as friends to part as foes, 

While those poor guests from friendship torn 

In age and want were left to mourn. 

Yet every time did fortune bless 

Poor neighbor John with fair success. 

He was not much disposed to roam, 

Had always fought his friends at home, 

And how it chanced he strayed so far 

Beyond his chosen fields of war, 

I little knew, and heeded less, 

For he himself could hardly guess. 

Suffice to say that he got here 
And met a match he might revere. 
"W^ith anxious look and gaze profound 
A doubtful crowd was gathered round, 
Conjecturing as neutrals might 
The prospects of a pending fight. 
John's iron frame was large and strong, 
In fistic glory noted long, 
But Jack was game, and lithe, and young. 



378 THE KXCIKRION. 

And had a frame more finely strung. 

When once they closed it seemed at first 

That Jack's success might he the worst. 

He had received well nigh a score 

Of reeling blows he manly bore ; 

But, goaded by such insult given, 

To deed of desperation di-iven. 

And, conscious of a friend in Heaven, 

He forced at once a savage close 

And broke the bridge of Johnny's nose. 

His triumph was so smartly won, 

I scarcely knew how it was done : 

In righteous vengeance did he pull 

With mazy twist of fleecy wool 

The stubborn head of Johnny Bull. 

The vanquished hero deeply l)leeds 

In presence of his sinful deeds, 

Atoning for the blood he spilt. 

His dark extremes of human guilt : 

And his denuded bosom types 

The flowing forms of freedom's stripes,, 

While in the azure of his mind 

Are, one by one, her stnrs dellned. 

She flaunts above her dungeon Ijars 

Her glorious sheet of stripes and stars, 

And Jack's eternal victory now 

Was stamped u})on creation's brow; 

While, beaming in the orient skies, 



THE EXCURSION. 379 

He saw his sun of triumph rise 
And pour afar in full resplendence 
The morning blaze of Independence. 

From Neptune's strand we could not go ; 
The road was poor, the bridges low ; 
The streams had swelled the night before 
Ten thousand fathoms, less or more, 
And there within the boundless airs 
They stopped the train to make repairs, 
Not being pleased to thus delay, 
I changed my mind to go that way, 
And when Apollo's ebbing eye 
Unloosed his floods along the sky, 
I left my train and lady fair 
And took a sunbeam through tlie air. 
Well pleased to think of moments gone, 
I hoisted sail and hastened on : 
My ray I steered for Uncle Sam, 
Returned to earth and here I am. 



380 



LINES TO A LADY. 

Air. Last Rose of hjunimer. 

TpioiXiH our [)athway.s may sever 

O'er mountain and sea, 
Still my memory never 

Shall wander from tliee. 
Oh ! then lady remember, 

When life shall grow gray, 
In its frosty December 

The gift of to-day. 

If, at last, we are parted, 

Our souls will be sad, 
But the maid golden-hearted 

May only be glad : 
And though sorrow make paler 

Her life for awliile, 
There is love to regale her 

And joy to beguile. 

The rosebud and lily 

Sit sweet on thy brow. 
Nor become thee so illy, — 

No purer than thou. 
May thy heart grow but lighter 

As life disappears, 
And brighter and brighter 

The crown of thv vears. 



381 



MY TKL^ANT :\irSTACHE. 

Once I was fervent, and buoyant, and jolly, 

For tlien I had hopes that my fiincy-nursed holly 

Would grow to an evergreen tree ; 
But how futile the zeal and how iaded the folly 

That ever confided in thee. 

It grieves me my pride's loud persuasion 
Hatli lured me to venture invasion 

On a siren I courted too soon : 
'Twere as well I had taken occasion 

To fur the cold lips of the moon. 

Thou nap-given villain ! I wonder 
By what unaccountable blunder 

Thou go'st to thy duty so slack ; 
But, knave, I will shake thee with thunder, 

For the sky of my patience is black. 

I am murdered, thou sable discarder ; 
[ will whistle the stars out of order 

And give thee Fred Williams's bail ; 
I will send thee across the stone border 

To tlie poor colored martyr in jail. 



382 MY TRUANT MUSTACHE. 

I have dewed the last drop of compassion, 
I am shoaled in the fog of a fashion 

To find thee so dull at thy work : 
Now tremble, thou slothful Circassian, 

I will ship thee to solace the Turk. 

Though the sun of my pride's at the highest, 
I Avould not upbraid with a " why is 't," 

To snare the last sand of thy brains, 
But I know, poor effete, thou behest 

The manhood that swims in these veins. 

I have long been aboard of thy treason, 
I have waited thy ripening season, 

Beset with an army of stings, 
Still dreaming the feathers of reason 

Would lift up thy imbecile wings. 

I have toiled, I have sown, I have waited, 
And rich was the harvest, I rated 

Would grow in the wake of my toil ; 
But the fleet of my hopes has been freighted 

With a moss that disgraces the soil. 

I have labored for years to unbin thee, 

I have made every vow that might win thee, 

Have knelt at each shrine that I know. 
And what in the devil is in thee 

That I never could coax thee to grow ? 



TWO IlISTOUIES. 088 

Thou art worthy to danco with old Nero. 
From Hades to trumpet the liero, 

With thy tyrannous liide and go seek. 
Is my spirit so far below zero 

No clover can live on my cheek? 

Ye spirits of evil creation, 

Come forth from your parched desolation, 

Let each be prepared with a lash ; 
I will l)rave every ill of damnation 

But the hell of a sluggard mustache. 



TWO HISTORIES. 

TiiK myrtle boughs their bloom uprenr 

Beneath the smile of spring. 
And gaily in the meadows near 

The bright birds come and sing. 
Beneath that Inidding myrtle l)Ower 

Two children wildly play, 
Lingering there for many an hour 

In childhood's rapturous way. 

The little boy, a rosy child. 
Free as the bird that sings ; 

In song as light, in heart as wild 
As the warbler with his wings. 



384 TWO HISTORIES. 

A little maiden holds his arm, 

In sonl as light as he, 
And fairer is her tiny form 

Than the flower she smiles to see. 

A few fleet years have fluttered by, 

And now beneath that shade 
A manly youth with love-lit eye 

Beholds a blushing maid. 
In converse sweet they linger long 

Beneath that myrtle now ; 
All heedless of the warbler's song, 

They plight a sweeter vow. 

They seek again the myrtle shades : 

'Tis the twilight of their years. 
And roam once more the flowery glades 

The aged heart reveres. 
Three little children sporting there 

M^here nature's flowers are strown; 
Recall the bliss that simple pair 

In their own days had known.. 

A few more seasons trundle on ; 

Once more I view the bough. 
But, dreaming of the days agone,. 

I hear no solemn vow. 



ON A ROBIN SH(yr NEAR ITS NEST. "■iSo- 

Two grass-green mounds alone declare 
Where those fond hearts are laid, 

And, side by side, they slumber fair 
Beneath the myrtle shade. 



ON A ROBIN SHOT NEAR ITS NEST. 

Sweet little warbler through many a year. 

And fleet airy rambler of many a mile, 
No more will thy carols my pensiveness cheer. 

No more thy sweet lays my lone moments beguile. 
Thou hast witnessed misfortune's dark tempests arise. 

While happy and high were thy hopes of the spring. 
No more the bright dome of the azure-arched skies 

Canst thou fill with thy music or cleave with thy wing. 

Three times have I known the fair lily to grow, 

And thrice seen the earth robed in mantles of green, 
And as oft I have known the fierce tempest to blow 

O'er the snow-covered brow of the lilied ravine. 
But as often, fair bird, as that lily has bloomed, 

I have heard with pure pleasure thy spring-telling^ 
chimes. 
And as oft as the earth in its shroud was entombed 

I have traced thee departing to sunnier climes. 



oiS() ON A UoniN SHOT XKAK ITS NKST. 

Wlien the valleys were blooming and verdant the glen 

In the sunshiny dawn of this grief-burdened year, 
With pleasure I saw thee returning again, 

The garden, the field, and the woodland, to cheer; 
And how deep was the joy in this blood-dripping breast 

As you sat in tlie bougli of yon green ap})letree, 
Wliere year after year you eonstiaieted your nest 

And caroled sweet songs to vour children and me. 



Do you hear the sad cries of your })uor little mate 

As he sits on the branch where your life has e.xjtired, 
A picture of anguish, lamenting the fate 

Of the long-faithful mistress he proudly admired? 
Lone littie mourner, she heais you no more. 

The death-shade hath blinded her long-lighted eye : 
Her songs and her labors are evermore o'er, 

And never again will she wake to your cry. 



Poor cliirruj)ing orphans within the rent nest 

Your parent erected with motherly care, 
How deep the distress in each clamoring breast, 

And how darksome the shadows of bhghting despair. 
Be calm, helpless mourners, and hush those drear cries: 

Sad, I know, is the fate that has fallen to you, 
And sharp is the task to repress the deep sighs, 

Affection must claim for a parent so true. 



ON A KOIUN SHOT NEAR ITS NEST. 0(S' 

Dead, songless comjmnion of happier hour^^, 

Fond care for thy ciiildreii wiU vex thee no more, 
Nor joy fill thy bosom when 'mong the rich bowers 

They carol the lays which thou caroled'st before. 
No more shall I see thee, as ofi I have seen, 

When fortune bestoAved thee a heritage fair, 
Instructing thy children o'er mountains of green 

To try the young ])lume througli the l)illows of air. 

Yet he who beholds thee laid low as thou art, 

May hope for a j)rospect no brighter than ihine. 
And misfortune's shar]> lightnings as rashly may dart 

As they fell on this summer companion of mine. 
But be mine, little singer, the rapturous joy 

Which filled the last throb of thy perishing l)reast. 
As pure be my i)leasure, my song swell as high. 

When my spirit de])arts to the regions of rest. 



388 



JAMES WISEMAN CARNEY. 

ACROSTIC. 

Joy- wasted ?( inter, crdwliog to his tomb, 
Awakes young spring from nature's fecund womb : 
Mur»i'ring o'er deeds, once scorning which she smiled 
Ere death came hinting of his pranks too wild, 
Strew.s his broad empires on liis vernal child. 

Wake now, sweet princess, and from cliaos creep; 
Indeed, 'tis meet that somewhat thou shouldst weep :: 
Since leased his wardrobe, with thy flowery flake 
Enwrap wide kingdoms for his memory's sake, 
Make joyous 7»any whom thou must deceive, 
And leave not almsless those that pluck thy sleeve,, 
Nor lend me sca?ttly for the wreath I weave. 

Choose me the ricliest of thy fresh-coned flowers,, 
And after years moy gild this path of ours. 
Remember all, thy pride who love to share, 
Nor slighting one, on whom thy smiles sit fair ; 
Each wand'ring year beseech thy fruitfulness 
Yield him such thrift?/ robes as Jewels 26'ould confess.. 

Note, — In the above, of course, the first letter of each line downward spells the name. 
The initial letters of the three first words of the first line, as well as those of the three last 
words of the last line, are the initials of the name. It will be further observed that the 
first letter of the first line, the third letter of the second line, the fourth letter of the third 
line, and so on down to the nineteenth letter in the last, and eighteenth, line, and being 
the italicised letters, also give the name. 



389 



EVANESCIENCE. 

'Of glory pure and fame secure 

How little may we trace, 
As, year by year, we draw more near 

The mystic end of Adam's race. 
In fancy gaze on the distant days 

When our fathers' lives were new ; 
Take heed of fame, as it went and came 

To glory's favored few. 

The proud, the great, the crown, the state. 

Have moldered into rust ; 
And the iron frame of honor's name 

Is eaten by the rust. 
The weak and vain arose amain 

To rule o'er land and sea : 
The kind, the brave, has been a slave 

And the tyrant's arm was free. 

Proud nations rose, but found a close, 

Like flowers beneath the snow, 
And heroes fell, through death to tell 

The patriot's ardent glow. 
The soldier led o'er millions dead 

Jlis tried and trusty band ; 
In town and hall, with shroud and pall, 

He covered all the land. 



390 KVAXKSCKNCK. 

Proud sons of lore liavc pondered o'er 

The themes of many lands. 
And in tlie toils of seienee' sjioils 

Plave mingled with its sands, 
The seiilptor's hand is now in sand 

Wlio framed the gods of yore, 
And the forms of fame which l)ore his name 

(an now he seen no more. 

The painter true has hade adieu 

To canvas and to pen. 
While the gems he framed decay lias claimed. 

To share the lot of men, 
The earth and air, the things they bear, 

Have witnessed hoary locks, 
And nature's law re})lete with awe 

Is written on the rocks. 

The dises that light the crown of night 

In heavt-n's expande(l hlue, 
When day aj pears, in othei- s])heres 

Evanish like the dew. 
Our dearest friend ai;d nature hlend 

Tlieir cold and ])lacid clay, 
While those we love, claimed from above, 

Forever pass away. 



TO A SIS rial's mkmdry. ;>91 

The rich and great with weahh elate 

Have suffered want and woe, 
While the poor and weak on glory's peak 

Have plucked the flowers that grow: 
The things that were have perished where 

Their glory saw its bloom ; 
The meek, the proud, have found a shroud 

And crumble in the tomb. 



TO A SISTER'S MEMORY. 

TiiK sweet conveyancer of song 

'I'hat strung her harj) our groves among 

And bathed her sparkling plumes along 

Our valley's fiowery foam 
Is gone with all the feathered throng 

To some more sunny home. 

The flowers that flecked the sunnner glade 
^Vith all the bloom their beauty made 
In nature's fanciest garbs arrayed, 

To-day are lying low. 
And winter sends his cold brocade 

To make their shroud of snow. 



392 TO A sister's memory. 

Departed plumes and perished flowers, 
Though seeu no more in your blitlie bowers, 
Ye make us sad for vanished liours ; 

Yet not for you I mourn : 
A darker cloud above me lowers 

Than skies have ever worn. 

Ah ! now I feel the poignant dart 
Of grief transfixed within my heart, 
And in lone hall or surging mart 

My joylessness deplore. 
Oh, must the dearest, fondest part 

To meet on earth no more? 

Omniscient Heaven ! 'twas mine to know 
The joys that nurse the ardent glow 
Which life's ungarnished hopes bestow 

When fortune's planet beams 
And balmy gales of pleasure blow 

To waft our airy dreams. 

From me to-day that flitting star 
The clustering clouds of grief debar, 
While gentle airs of pleasure are 

In regions far from me, 
And, rolling round me wide and far, 

Is sorrow's sullen sea. 



TO A sister's memory. , 393 

My sister, hear the sigh to-day 
That I would heave beside thy clay, 
And rising winds bear far away 

To other hearts than mine ; 
Receive the homage I would pay 

A sister's solemn shrine. 

I know the scenes that once I knew, 
In gloomy thought they greet my view. 
And, sister cold, thy form imbue 

With many a magic power. 
Still pictured in the crystal dew 

That gemmed the forest flower. 

Bright beamed the day that thou wert born : 
I hailed the sun thy infant morn, 
And saw his smile the hills adorn 

Far over plain and lea, — 
Yon sun that beams to-day forlorn 

And shines no more for thee. 

1 rocked the willow mansion where 
Thy form was laid with holy care. 
Ah, thought I then to ever share 

A mourner's solemn gloom, 
Or see thy sad companions bear 

That treasure to the tomb? 



394 • TO A sister's memoky. 

I heard the last words, death-distressed, 
That ever crossed tliy heaving breast, — 
Thy last dark hours those words expressed 

A dying sister's love ; 
Oh, sweet and gentle be thy rest 

In angel courts above ! 

How many an unforgotten hour 

We blessed the gifts of nature's dower 

When thy little hands would cull the flower 

That made the valley gay ! 
Ah ! cold to-day the icy bower 

That shades thy nerveless clay. 

My sister, did thy spirit know, 

When thy cheek assumed the i>allor glow 

And thy stream of life had turned to flow 

To a bright and better land. 
The grief that keyed my living woe 

To clasp thy dying hand? 

My sister, did thy spirit see 
The last sad token that may be 
A souvenir on earth to me 

Of thy unconscious mold, 
The kiss affliction gave to thee 

Ere yet thy clay was cold ? 



TO A sister's memory. 395 

Thy kindred stood around the bed 

Where o'er thy breast the shroud was spread 

That wrapped in many a fold the dead 

They never more may see ; 
Say, didst thou see the tears they shed 

Wliile gazing there on thee? 

Oh ! ever will we cull the flowers 
That fade within the autumn bowers 
When dark November's tempest lowers 

To blast their silken forms, 
In token of the lonely hours 

That tore thee from our arms. 

Scarce sixteen autumns hadst thou seen 
The golden hue and velvet sheen 
That folded in the years between 

Thy cradle and thy tomb, — 
Alas ! for thee the valley green 

Is never more to bloom. 

May violets bend beneath thy bier, 
Thy grave long share a dewy tear, 
And pensive angels, bending near 

When flowers tlie fields adorn, 
Commemorate for many a year 

Thy vernal natal morn. 



390 MRS. FANNIE CROWE. 

May the little birds come there to sing, 
And to thy tomb their tribute bring 
When nature smiles to wed the spring 

And fields are green and gay, 
And may for thee their matins ring 

When they are far away. 

Alas ! thy life on earth is o'er, 

And, though my heart and hopes deplore 

To see thy features nevermore, 

Farewell forever now. 
Oh, may the heav'nly angel corps 

Wreatlie roses round thy brow ! 



MRS. FANNIE CROWE. 

Died, March 1st, 1872. 

'Neath the clay-knit sheet o'er thy lone, cold breast, 
Sleep, lady, sleep in thy long, last rest. 
Though the ceaseless wings of the changing year. 
Thy friend's sad sigh, or the stranger's tear. 
Should bring thee the gift of the yew tree bough. 
No kindness would shine from thy white brow now. 

Sweet, gentle Fannie, asleep in the grave, 
Gone back to the realms of the Giver who gave ; 



MKS. FAXME f'ROWE. 397 

Though they needs must feel that thyself art glad, 
There are those thou hast left who shall long be sad. 
" Will Fannie come back? " they sometimes sigh ; 
Ah ! tlie answer is writ in the grave near by. 

Meek as the pink that hides by the brook, 

The soul portrayed in thy kind, fond look ; 

All were thy friends who had known tlieo, from whom 

Thou art fenced out now by the cold, dumb tomb ; 

Thick as the flowers in the spring-time spread 

The perfumed traits of the dear one dead. 

If round the mound of thy marble clay 
Thy sad friends gather to weep or to pray. 
Thou wreathest no smile on thy face all chill. 
Thy Ijreast does not heave, and thy lips are still , 
This was not the way in the years long gone, 
Thou welcomed'st once the absent one. 

Nature is iced, and, somehow, the power 
Is filched from the dawn, the star, and the shower : 
Thee thy children call, and thy sisters kiss ; 
Thou art deaf to their grief, and blind to all bliss. 
And the memory fond of thy love-crowned vow 
Cannot brighten the gloom on thy snow-cold brow. 

Too tender a leaf for the harsh, cold earth. 
Too grave for the mirth of its gew-gaw worth ; 



3©8 MRS. FANNIE CKOWK. 

An early liour of thy life streams down, 
And the cofhn plank is thy crimson gown. 
If grieved ones touch thy dust with sighs, 
Thy heart's chilled drops cannot fill thine eyes. 

From the earth's new breast will tlie frail flowers peep 
But thou wilt not wake from thy long deep sleep. 
The insect will chirj), and the gay bird sing, 
While thou hast no heed of the gladsome spring ; 
The cloud shall grow cold, and the snow-fields fall, 
But nothing shall add to thy dark chill pall. 

Thou, chaste as the lily and fond as the dove. 
Though many have loved thee and some still love, 
There is one on the earth in whose sad, dim eye 
The great l)right drop will be slow to dry ; 
And a mother's broad love shall still shine clear 
When none else bequeatlies thee a sigh or a tear. 

Thy husband will weej) for a true wife gone, 
Thy sisters mourn for an unseen one ; 
Thy children may grow to a gray old age. 
May read life through to its last bleak page : 
Yet, merged in memory's siren stream. 
Their mother's name's but a keyless dream. 

Fannip:, farewell. 'Tis a sad, sad word. 
By thee nevermore shall its sound be heard. 



MRS. ANNIE E. MCKENNA. 399 

In our grief we rejoice that thou canst not hear 
The footfall ftiint of affection's tear: 
We fear, didst thou know wliat thy loved ones crave, 
That thou, too, wouldst weep in thy spring-green grave. 

'Twas a drear, dark hour to see thee dead, 
To lay thee deep in thy clay-down hed : 
May thy rest be sweet till time's dread close 
Shall rouse us all from the shroud's repose. 
Thy friends are grieved that thy days are o'er, 
But Heaven exults in an angel more. 



MRS. ANNIE E. McKENNA. 

Died. August 24th, 1883. 

I LISTEN to the birds that sing 

On blithesome bough and happy wing 

Above the world l)elow, — 
As if no sadness could descend 
To steal the treasure of a friend, 

Nor adverse wind could blow ; 
As if the bloom of summer time 
Should never hide its fragrant prime 

In a coverlet of snow. 

But far away in another land 
The tidings come of a heavy hand 



400 MRS. ANNIE E. M KENNA. 

That lies at home to-day ; 
Of a gentle pulse that throbs no more, 
Of one whose storm of life is o'er 

In its summer noonday raj' ; 
That a heart once filled with hope and light. 
The living grace of a fireside bright, 

Is silent in the clay. 

Poor Amiie, was there naught to save 
Thee from the dark and silent grave 

When thy life was but in bloom ? 
What may replace a mother's brow 
To bless thy little orphans now 

And guide their days from gloom ? 
She who could read their little wills, 
Could dry their tears and soothe their ills, 

Is sleeping in the tomb. 

Beside thy corpse tliy friends have prayed, 
' Where thy kindred rest thy grave is made, 

And thy task of time is done. 
Eternity its pall hath spread, 
And laid thee with the countless dead 

Whose varied sands are run : 
Thy friends, indeed, were stricken down. 
But that they know thou shar'st the crown 

Thy worthiness hath won. 



MKS. ANNIE E. MCKENNA. 401 

Yet one by one the years will pass, 
The flowers will bloom and the verdant grass 
. Will courtesy to the breeze ; 
The choristers will wake tlieir song 
And chant sweet hymns the summer long 

In mystic symphonies , 
But thou canst never more return 
Excepting for a sad sojourn 

Of dreams and memories. 

Sleep, Annie, in thy new framed grave ; 
Thou leav'st behind but few to brave 

The world, more pure than thee. 
Let all mankind speak out the truth 
About thy womanhood, thy youth. 

Thy artless maiden glee ; 
A maid, a mother, and a wife. 
Thy ever stainless, peaceaful life 

From calumny is free. 

Thou'rt gone to the bourne where we all must go, 
From the strife and scenes of this globe below, 

Where death makes mortals even ; 
Thou hast left the ties that once were fond, 
Hast launched on the gulf of the far beyond 

And the life that it doth leaven ; 
Thou hast left a life of empty worth, 
Left all thy stricken ones on earth 

To pray for them in Heaven. 



402 (iKOHGK IIAKIXIKOVK. 

Tliy heart is still and thy hrow is cold 
That welcomed all to her little fold 

Where now but sadness creeps ; 
Wliere grief supplants the joy that e'er 
Shut out the harbinger of care ; 

Where the gust of sorrow sweeps ; 
And the sun looks down from his throne at noon, 
And the silent face of the midniglit moon, 

On the grave where Annie sleeps. 



GEORGE HARDGROVE. 

Died, May 2:5kd, 1S75. 

Dear friend, it is sad, while the year is so young 

And the world is so sweet with its jewels of IVIay, 
That a silence so awful should hang on thy tongue, 

And thy heart keep so still in its house of decay. 
That heart never faltered, though agony rung 

Its sheltering casement for many a day ; 
No fountain of friendshi]» more pure ever sprung 

From the mystical fabric of spirit and clay. 

There are many thou knew'st in a habit of tears 
Which round thy new tomb they expressively shed, 

'Oh ! tis hard to believe in tlie fllower of thy years 
That thou art afar in the realms of the dead. 



GEORGL HARDGKOVE. 4()o 

Ma}^ the praises and prayers of thy stricken compeers, 
When they mention thy name, be respectfully said ; 

The friend whom they honored and loved so long here 's 
But a memory now in a comfortless l)ed. 

'Tis the willow that hangs its lank leaves o'er the lyre. 

The cypress replaces the myrtle of yore ; 
Can Gabriel only rekindle the tire 

Now quenched in the bosom so fervent before? 
Thy virtues were many, and those who aspire 

Among thy companions more nobly to soar, 
Will make themselves purer, and better, and higher. 

To imitate him, who, alas! is no more. 

The birds are all gay in their new-budded bowers. 

Far into the ether their anthems arise ; 
They do not remember this dead friend of ours. 

Whose song is now sweeter than theirs in the skies. 
The pleasure and peace of once happier hours 

Are blessings decayed we can never reprise ; 
Let us answer our sorrow and garland such flowers 

As honest regret fi"om its valley's supplies. 

Thy brief life is closed ; and, though few were the days 
That time from its store-house in scantiness gave. 

Yet long were the tale that recounted his praise 

Whom .so keenly we miss and were helpless to save. 



4()4 J. H. HOBART BROWX. 

Bright, bright be the gems that we weave in thy bays^ 
For, George, tliou wert noble, and honest, and brave> 

Peace to thy soul. Nevermore may we gaze 

On thv kind face so cold 'neath the cloud of the grave. 



J. H. HOBART BROWN. 

J):el). Mav 2ni), ]S8S. 
First Ei'Iscopal Bishop of the Dio^'ese of Fond du Lac. 

His heart is still and his face is cold ; 

The tale of a lofty life is told. 

^Vllile tlnit life liut beamed in its noonday sun,. 

The skies grew dark and his task was done. 

He heard the voice of his Master call 

From the golden throne of that Master's hall, 

And the clayey gyves of his l)right soul fall 

In the gulf of death that awaits us all. 

Silent and pale is the good man laid 

In the stricken home where he smiled and j)rayed. 

E'en the skies are wet with the rain-tears shed 

O'er the deathbed scene of the gifted dead. 

Let the limpid eye that is painted here, 

The sigh-frowned word, and the thought sincere — 

The offering ])Oor of a stranger's tear — 

Its tribute pay to his stainless bier. 



MRS. ALLIE CRAWFORD. 405 

His own great gain is liis mourners' loss ; 
The banner he bore was the christian's cross ; 
To aid mnnkind through earth's stormy strife, 
The aim of his brave and his toilsome life. 
X/ong be the years ere his memory fade 
From the grateful hearts where his sunlight 

strayed ; 
The garlands, green that their hands shall braid, 
And calm be his sleep neath the yew tree's shade. 

The gay green robes of the l)litliesome spring 
Will spangle soon rounct the vernal king, 
And nature's face in its bliss grow ,gay 
"With the flowery wealth of the gems of May ; 
But all the lures that this world may pour 
In the richest streams of its summer store, 
Jl^rom the happier scenes of a brighter shore, 
Oan call him back to its ills no more. 



MRS. ALLIE CRAWFORD. 

Died, Sept. 30th, 1874. 

" Such a one do I remember. 

Whom to look at was to love." 

Tennyson. 
It is done ! The cold grave is covered to-night 
Over one we have known in her womanhood bright. 
The peeress of any who live in the land. 



4()() MRS. ALLIE CRAWFORD. 

Allie Crawford is dead. Oh, how ])leak tlie distress^ 
Like an icdcle hung at the heart, is the press 
Recollection still paints of the christian caress 
Her pure lips once gave to our juvcnilo hand. 

It is sad, trebly sad, that so gentle a soul. 
So far from the cheer of the family roll. 

Should slee]) all alone through this dark, silent 
night 
Away from the friends and the dear ones she knew, 
In Rienzi's still grove, where the chill autumn dew 
Never fell o'er the dust of a sjjirit so true. 

And the moon never shown with a lovelier light. 

Can it be this })ure woman is cold in the day. 
Whom even the stranger, so many a day, 

Loved and esteemed for tlie gifts she possessed? 
Can it be that this lady, hut yesterday here, 
From her home in the stars should look down on 

her bier. 
And respond with no comfort to agony's tear. 

That, like a keen dagger, moves up tlirough the 
1 )reast ? 

Dear lady, I knew thee in earlier days. 

And always rejoiced to be heard in thy praise. 

But now thou art deaf and canst hear me no more. 
Oh ! that justice might sit on tlie silvery lyre 



MRS. ALIJE CRAWFORD. 407 

Thy hand ever touched with a magical fire, [aspire 
Then, indeed, might thy schoolmate all humbly 
To honor the author whose labors are o'er. 

Thy years were but dawning, when death's message 

came 
To cancel thy life, and to limit thy fame, [earth. 

That else would have circled allwhere round the 
The bud that would l)loom to a glorious flower, 
In a sad, undefined, and mysterious, hour 
Is shorn of its fragrance, is robbed of its power, 

And drowned in the genius that fostered its birth. 

A rich, precious pearl hath slip])ed from the clasp 
Of its stricken possessors, who tremble and gasp 

As it settles so deep through eternity's sea. 
No guest ever lighted the glee of our halls, 
None ere responded to charity's calls, 
None ever shone in the old High School's walls. 

That was purer, or brighter, or better, than thee. 

As I saw thy mute casket descend in the grave, 
I remembered how noble, and gifted, and brave. 

Was the beautifal one that it hid from our gaze ; 
When I saw thy old classmates and teachers in tears^ 
I remembered fond scenes of the now vanished years, 

When hundreds had welcomed with smiles and with 
cheers. 
Thy wonderful soul that illumined those days. 



408 GEN. THOMAS F. MKAdHKR. 

The stranger this hour is a mourner as well 

As the sorrow-clad hearts where thy saintliness fell, 

Like an angel's, so pure, so su])reme, so refined. 

Never more shall we see thee, or hear thy mild voice : 

But God hath long loved thee, and made it His choice 

To take thee to Heaven ; and hence we rejoice 

That thou baskest at last wliere thy mind most 
inclined. 



GEN. THOMAS F. MEAGHER. 

Died,. Jcly 1st, 1867. 

Ah! the lulling gale of breath ; 

Ah ! the rainbow of our day ; 
When the storm-cloud of death 

Deepens o'er oxir deluged clay I 
Like the fair l)ut fragile flower, 

Like the children of the bough, 
Shattered by the thunder-sliower. 

Is the chieftain broken now. 

Millions wake from dreamy rest 

Li the nightmare of surprise, 
While the floods within the breast 

Mock tlie levees of their eyes. 
Not alone Columbia heeds. 

He is missed in many lands, — 
While the sporting minnow feeds 

Round his slumbers on the sands. 



GEN. THOMAS E. MEA(iHEK. 409 

On the viewless plumes of air 

Far a funeral wail will ride ; 
Dark the robes his mourners wear 

As the day-god's starless bride. 
See the sorely sorrowing bend 

On his native shamrock shore ; 
See the swell of grief extend 

Wliere the Indian billows roar. 



Tenant of a lonely home, 

Danger's hour was light to thee ; 
Exile bark and ocean foam 

Were thy boughs from glory's tree : 
Purple steel and crimson lead 

Were the toys of thy delight, — 
Where thy tow'ring, hatless head 

Was the flag of Freedom's fight. 



Rode he once the surgj^ car. 

Braved a despot nation's frown, 
Stemmed the boiling gulfs of war 

In thy barge of triumph down ;— 
Lowly was thy couch of rest, 

Ah, Missouri's faithless wave ! 
In thy chill and troubled breast, 

For his death-bed and his grave. 



410 MARY JANE SMITH. 

Favorite of the fickle dame 

All desire and few behold, — 
Bright upon the page of fame 

Is the warrior's name enscrolled ; 
Lips now mute and fireless eye 

Once the bolts of language hurled, 
Through the deep A\ilcanian sky 

Of a Ciceronian world. 

Lift him from his liquid tomb. 

Delve for him a warmer bed, 
You that longest weep the doom 

Of the laureled stranger dead. 
May the angels smiling sweet 

Give thy soul a place to dwell ; 
Till beyond the stars we meet, 

(llorious exile, fare thee well! 



MAKY JANE SMITH. 

Dini), June Kith, 1.SS4. 

In the joyous hours of years agone 
She was full of artless glee ; 

No warbler led his rapture on 
More glad or ga}' than she. 

Her kindly heart possessed the gold 
That gave her many friends, 



MARY JANE SMITH. 411 

And, though the heart to-day be cold, 

Remembered fondness lends 
A halo to the memories 

Of the happy long ago, 
Ere disappointment and disease 

Had aimed the fatal blow. 

A silent grave on Byron hill, 

O'erswept by wind and rain, 
Is nearly all they treasure still 

Of sweet-souled Mary Jane. 
In the rosy hours of womanhood, 

The May-day of her life, 
She, uncomplaining, pure, and good. 

Retreated from its strife ; 
Among the millions left behind 

In earth's tempestuous mart. 
Adorned alike in heart and mind 

To fill a lofty part. 

To each in life that knew her well 

Her memory will be green. 
Till death shall weave its chilly spell 

Round his own closing scene. 
Throughout her life beloved by all, 

And cherished still in death. 
She saw the shadowy curtains fall 

Above her latest breath. 



412 COL. SUMNER L. BRASTED. 

Poor Mary Jane, adieu, adieu. 

Thy woman's heart was brave, 
Would all might pass as pure and true 

From childhood to the grave. 

The spring-time flowers will blush and bloom. 

And the summer winds will blow, 
And the winter will o'erlay her tomb 

With a spotless robe of snow ; 
The sinless birds will chirp and sing 

Where her lowly grave was made. 
The radiant morn new glories bring 

To grace her silent shade ; 
But nothing breaks the calm repose 

No sorrow knows, nor pain, 
And Heaven shares another rose 

In the soul of Mary Jane. 



COL. SUMNER L. BR.VSTED. 

Died, Fkb. 7th, 1886. 

At last, by the law of God's high will 
Thy brow is cold and thy heart is still. 
The day was mild and the sun was bright 
On the outer world, but, alas ! no light 
That Phoebus flung from his azure dome 
Could comfort bring to thy dai'kened home. 
In thy life's bright years and thy manhood prime 
Thy life is writ in the tome of time. 



COL. SUMNER L. BRASTED. 413 

But not alone by the fireside few 

That best he loved, and that best he knew, 

Will sorrow's tear be dumbly shed, — 

For thousands know that their friend is dead. 

From out the country far and near 

Will mourners gather round his bier 

Respectful tribute to declare. 

It will seem lonesome everywhere 

When Colonel Brasted is not there ; 

And many a stranger's heart grows sore 

As he thinks of the friend he can meet no more. 

Amid the wrecks of human strife 
He leaves the tower of a spotless life. 
When the nation's heart in its danger palled, 
And the fainting voice of his country called. 
When the blood ran cold, and the brave grew wan, 
He put the garb of a soldier on. 
In the swamps and bights of southern lands, 
'Mong treason's fierce and blood-stained bands, 
The cannon's frown nor the bomb's red glare 
Could make him swerve from his duty where 
It called for a heart that was stout and brave, — 
And he will be laid in a soldier's grave. 

As his life moved on, his honors grew [knew, 

'Mong the friends and the scenes that his childhood 
And, ere time's snows had touched his hair, 



414 MICHAEL C. NASH. 

He had won all wreathes that he wished to wear. 
He shared the love and he kept the power 
Of untold friends to his dying hour ; 
And when the early flowers shall bloom. 
And sweet birds sing, near Brasted's tomb, 
The sorrowing hearts he left behind 
Will also come and a garland bind 
To his memory dear, with a tender care 
For the honored dust that is sleeping there. 



MICHAEL ('. NASH. 

Died, Feb. 10th, 1879. 

The ages roll on without compass or number, 

The first, and the least, and the greatest, are gone; 
The bell of eternity wakes from its slumber, 

And death in its coldness creeps silently on. 
In the blossom of life and the dews of its morning 

With all the enchantment existence could lend. 
From the circle of many, those many adorning. 

We miss the kind face of a true-hearted friend. 

The tear-drops have fallen, for a liome is left lonely, 
One being has gone to the grave unbeguiled; 

And father, and mother, are weeping, as only 
A parent can weep for so noble a child. 

Sisters and In-others are strangers to pleasure. 

On tlie threshold of life has been opened a door; 



MICHAKL C. NASH. 415 

In the cold, snowy ground they have hurled u treasure 
That back from his tomb can be welcomed no more. 

Perhaps there is one who will longingly miss him 
Too rudely awaked from affection's sweet dream ; 

But away in yon Heaven some angel may kiss him, 
Far from the rush of life's turbulent stream. 

Wliite o'er thy grave be the tombstone erected — 
Nature's stern dictum we may not reverse : 

That in death, as in life, thou wert loved and respected 

Was shown in the thousands who followed thy 
hearse. 

All were thy friends who had pleasure to know thee, 

The young, and the old, and the grave, and the gay, 
The social above, and the worthy below thee 

Do homage and weep o'er thy ashes to-day. 
Throughout thy young life thou hadst gleaned many 
laurels 

Thy clay-covered coffin can never confine — 
Remarked among men as a pattern of morals, 

The memory now that we treasure as thine. 

Farewell, our dear friend. 'Tis a fruitless endeavor 
The sheet that enwraps thee, again to unwind. 

But sleep calmy on in thy shroud-robe forever. 

Till death chills the millions thou lea vest behind. 

And, when thy long trance in the grave hath been 
ended, 



416 ANNA WALL. 

And the dim sun of time shall expire in the west ; 
'Mong those earth spirits with whose thine has been 
blended, 
Receive in Elysium the meed of the blest. 

'Tis a sore task and dark — to say " farewell forever," 

To think that the friend we have cherished so dear 
Has gone from our hearths and our homes, and can 
never 

Be with us again on this grief-checkered sphere. 
But 'tis cheering to think of the joyous hereafter 

When the good and the pure may their concourse 
renew ; 
And till then, be our vineyards of tears or of laughter, 

Dear friend of our firesides, a silent adieu. 



ANNA WALL. 

Died, March 2d, 1884. 

It is the morning of the spring, 

The streams begin to flow, 
The birds are coming soon to sing. 

And the little flowers to blow. 
But there's one home that will not share 

The brightness of the hour, 
For death hath entered darkly there 

And stolen its sweet flower. 



ANNA WALL. 417 

The father's toil hath lost its pride, 

The mother's soul is sad, 
Though all the busy world beside 

Hath prospered and is glad. 
They did not know till now, in thee. 

So pure and unbeguiled. 
That so much airy company 

Could perish with their child. 

It is strange these happy days 

That sorrow should descend, 
To shadow with its sullen rays 

The bosom of a friend. 
But sadness is a feeble word. 

When dreaming silently 
Of the absence of that blithesome bird, 

That never more may see. 

Sleep, Anna, in thy little grave. 

Where grief can never creep. 
May smiling angels guard and save 

The gift they could not keep ! 
The rose's bloom, the warbler's voice. 

Shall swell above the sod ; 
Though sad and lone, their hearts rejoice 

That thou art home with God. 



418 



JOSEPH CRELE. 

Died, January l'7th, 1866. 
CLAIMED TO BE ] 40 YEARS OLD. 

Stormy j^ears, three score and ten, 
Providence allots to men, 
And unfolds tlie prosi)ect then 

Of His plan. 
Forty and a hundred years 
Rolled the world and shone the spheres 
O'er thy triumplis and thy tears, 

Aged man. 

Fifty thousand times yon sun 
Hath his course in nature run : 
Thou hast seen his duty done 

In the west. 
Thou hast witnessed on our ball 
Nations rise and kingdoms fall, 
Ere creation spread her pall 

O'er thy rest. 

Wondrous form of human mold, 
O'er thy ashes still and cold 
Let us sweet communion hold 



JOSEPH CRELE. 

With the past. 
Let us dwell composedly 
■On the scenes that hurried by 
Where that dim and languid eye 

Once was cast. 

It has seen Columbia rise 
From colonial disguise 
To the temple of the skies 

Freedom won. 
Gazed upon the livid flame 
Of the battle's red acclaim 
Till the echo of her fame 

Reached the sun. 

It has known the eagle soar 
From Atlantic's hollow roar 
To Pacific's stormy shore, 

Westward bound. 
Heard the scream of triumph hoarse 
Sweep from Mississippi's source 
To the limits of his course, 

A^ictor crowned. 

It has marked the holy will 
Of the martyrs, bleeding still 
'On the sward of Bunker Hill, 
Red in gore : 



419 



420 JOSEPH CRELE. 

Seen the form of him who rose, 
Fought and quelled his nation's foes^ 
Who from Vernon's calm repose 
Wakes no more. 

Once again did it behold 
Crimson revolution rolled 
By the hireling slave of gold 

From his sling ; 
Saw it sweep to ocean's flood 
Tyranny's embosomed bud 
On a reeking tide of blood 

To its king. 

It has seen the darksome tide 
Of rebellion's blinded pride 
Spreading desolation wide 

O'er her bloom ; 
Seen the bubble burst in woe 
By the agonizing throe 
Of her minions crumbled low 

In the tomb. 

Once it saw the fiery star 
Of exterminating war 
Beaming over climes afar 

In the sky ; 
Till the tyrants clanking chains 



JOSEPH CRELE. 421 

Over Europe's fertile plains 
Froze the blood in human veins 
With a sigh. 

It has known the wild ado 
Of the soldiers' rendezvous 
Quenched in blood at Waterloo 

By the brave : 
Saw the warrior phantom smile 
O'er creation for awhile, 
Then on lone Helena's isle 

Find a grave. 

Relic old of other days ! 

Let admiring millions' praise 

Be the monument we raise 

O'er thy breast. 
Till the tide of nature rolls 
O'er the legions of its souls 
Who shall breast her stormy shoals, 

Gently rest. 

Ere the men of hoary hairs 
On a changing world of cares 
First inhaled the azure airs, 

Thou wert old. 
Thou hast seen their manhood pride 
Far from years of youth divide 
Till they slumbered side by side 

Calm and cold. 



422 GENETHLIAC. 

Like the buds of spring unrollecl 
In their hues of green and gold, 
Ages did to thee unfold 

Blossoms bright. 
Like the summer flowers that fade- 
Li the chilly autumn shade, 
Generations have decayed 

In thy sight. 

Let the sounding trump of time 
O'er the universe sublime 
And creation's solemn chime 

Sound thy knell. 
Mold of matter and of mind 
In thy wondrous frame combined ;- 
Prodig}^ of human kind, 

Fare thee well. 



GENETHLIAC. 

Far yon trackless regions o'er, 
I mark a well known bird of yore 
Returning from his distant shore 

To seat upon my brow. 
And bearing in his beak once more- 

A blooming olive bough. 



GEXETHLIAC. 423 

Thou wanderer of regions bright ! 
What varied visions greet thy sight 
Careering in thy azure hight, 

Swift-pinioned bird of time, 
Far tracing in thy onward tiight 

My morn of manhood prime. 

Come, rest thee now, type of my age, 

I have marked thee long thy powers engage 

With adverse sky and stormy rage, 

While weary rounds rolled on 
That, far within thy planet cage, 

Have circled twenty one. 

The busy flight retard awhile. 
Inclement hours of grief and guile 
Will cloud thy brow and dim thy smile 

Man's wide dominions o'er. 
Ere thou shalt droop on that lone isle 

AVhence thou mayst never soar. 

And gay, fleet bird of mystic mold, 
When thou art wan, and w^eak, and old, 
Where will thy dying pinions fold, 

Thy restless wanderings end. 
When with thy wasting ashes cold 

Eternity shall blend ! 



424 (JENETHLIAC 

Weird form ! thy fate and mine are one. 
Pursue thy ceaseless journeyings on, 
Till the glor}' of thy plumes be gone, 

Thy russet robe be gray ; 
Till the gazer and the gazed upon 

Forever ftide away. 

Through gloomy mists of vanished years, 
Illumed with hopes, beset with fears, 
Enbalmed in joys, diffused in tears, 

By fortune's changing ray. 
On the brow of time again appears 

M}' welcome natal day. 

A~ fallen leaf from nature cast. 
Another year has glided past. 
With all the mysteries it amassed 

In the specter march of time. 
And now, to-day, I greet at last 

The day-dawn of my prime. 

The glorious morn how shall I hail? 
Rend off the future's magic vail 
And my ambitious thoughts regale 

Of fortune's cherished powers ; 
Or in my soul to-day bewail 

The joys of vanished hours? 



GENETHLIAC. 425 

I see the incandescent forms 

Of fancy-framed, delusive charms, 

And glory's fair, but icy, arms 

Extend above my head. 
While passion wild my bosom warms 

To seek their flowery bed. 

The siren voice of future bliss 
Foretells a time more blithe than this ; 
She sings of actions wrought amiss 

In my unaspiring soul 
And asks to stamp the sealing kiss 

On the days I yet control. 

The golden sands attract my gaze ; 
That silver voice demands my praise, 
And I repine for future days 

With the pleasures which they bear, 
And hope to win the hallowed bays 

The sibyl joys to wear. 

I lend my soul to happy hours 

And gild its pride with fancied powers 

Among the meads of fragrant flowers 

Where after steps may roam. 
And bid it seek the myrtle bowers 

May shade my future home. 



426 GKNKTIILIAC. 

But, ah ! my soul, what dreams are these 
That fill my life with fancied ease? 
A fragile bough to every breeze 

That fancy may bestow. 
What mean those lowly bending kneea 

This cheek of crimson glow ? 

The gems thou fram'st of yellow gold, 
To-day dost thou with hope behold, 
As once thou saw'st in days of old, 

The shrine of youthful bloom, — 
The forms which now assume the mold 

That clusters in the tonilj ? 

Despite the ardent, trancing glow, 
M\ pulse and heart are beating low 
And I am sorrowful to know, 

With the empty joys they bear. 
That all the siren queens can show 

Are castles in the air. 

They charm my unsuspecting soul 
With magic draughts from beauty's bow! 
And move beyond her self control 

The once inherent powers, 
While disappointment's felloes roll 

Above her cherished flowers. 



GENKTHLIAC. 427 

Too well I know the painted walls, 
The golden isles and marble halls, 
The orgies of the midnight balls 

Within those mansions seen ; 
For I have long obeyed the calls 

Of their inspiring queen. 

I heard them when I was a child, 
When fading hopes my youth beguile(,l, 
And tempting pleasures round me smiled 

With a benignant face, 
To lure me o'er the deserts wild 

In the regions of her race. 

Deluded child of many a whim. 
My brightest joys have faded dim, — 
Inflated bubbles o'er the brim 

Where phantom w'aters roll. 
Exploding in the grasp of him 

Who knelt to kiss the bowl. 

Year after year my soul aspired 
To all the hights my passions fired, 
In fancy's gayest garbs attired 

With trappings rich and new; 
Yet th' highest hopes my heart desired 

Have faded from mv view. 



428 GENETHLIAC. 

And while I see yon orb arise 

To wheel his flight across the skies, 

Rekindling my despondent eyes 

As he often did of yore, 
Shall I again renew my sighs 

For dreams that are no more ? 

The boughs are wa\nng in the trees, 
With all the grace and gentle ease 
That bowed obeisance to the breeze 

Just one short year ago ; 
But the verdure green that garnished these 

Has faded 'neath the snow. 

Sweet songsters warble on the hill, 
They cheer the banks of many a rill, 
And nature's verdant valleys fill 

With gratitude and ])raise; 
But the singers sweet are cold and still 

That chai'med my earlier days. 

Full often have I seen the bowers 
Assume the garb of blossom showers 
That bind my heart with magic powers 

To the sunny days of May, 
And every time I kiss the flowers 

That one by one decay. 



GENETHLIAC. 429 

Then shall I greet again to-day 
The phantoms which beset my way 
In all the splendor rich and gay 

With which they robe their forms ? 
Or, in my warmth, forget that they 

Are flowers in fancy's arms ? 

The wintry winds from time's cold foam 
Will sweep the realms they make their home, 
While they who seek shall lonely roam 

O'er meadows bleak and drear ; 
But I will slight the faithless gnome 

I know too well to hear. 

Where are those friends I loved to greet, 
The happy hearts I joyed to meet 
With friendly smile in converse sweet 

When this happy day came round ? 
They sleep in cold and calm retreat 

In the mansions of the ground. 

'Twill be full soon my lot to share 
The snowy shroud they coldly wear, 
And I must slumber shortly where 

The still pale couch is spread, 
And where no castles in the air 

Allure the peaceful dead. 



430 MINNIE BAKEK. 

Who knows but ere the leaves will fade 
That deck to-day the vernal glade 
Where oft my boyish footsteps strayed 

\V hen years were speeding on, 
My soul may find the destined shade 

Before the flowers are gone ? 

But that regret the sleeping rose, 
Enrobed within its shroud of snows, 
In dear remembrance claims from those 

Who saw her summer bloom. 
May I but claim when round me close 

The curtains of the tomb. 



MINNIE BAKER. 

When I was young in soul and tongue, 

I sang a joyous measure. 
Both day and night 'twas my delight 

To fish the pond of pleasure. 
But now my heart is rent apart 

And broader than an acre, 
Since 'twas my hap to set my cap 

For little Minnie Baker. 

How sweet a smile she wore the while 
When first I stood beside her. 

Nor did I think while on the brink, 
I dallied with a spider ; 



MINNIE BAKER. 431 

Yet censure not my starless lot 

If that I did mistake her. 
What guileless fly could flutter by 

The web of Minnie Baker ? 

When I beheld her eyes of eld, 

How plenty grew the roses. 
Ah! I could float the bulrush l)oat 

Of good old Mr. Moses. 
Might evil pinch me inch by incli 

If e'er I should forsake her ; 
I'd give a race of commonplace 

For one like Minnie Baker. 

Alack 'twas vain to strain the chain 

Of silken love that l)Ound us, 
While hour on hour enlarged the flower 

That spread its perfume round us. 
I never knew a sweeter Jew 

Nor met a meeker Quaker ; 
You could not find in all her kind 

A gem like Minnie Baker. 

It seemed absurd to see some bird 

Go by on liappy pinions ; — 
No bumblebee could buzz like me 

In Minnie's bright dominions. 



432 MINNIE BAKER. 

No storm or breeze that swept the seas 
Could raise an angry breaker ; 

And it was nice as paradise 
To be near Minnie Baker. 

Alas, alas ! My house was glass, 

Poor playful little kitten. 
She might have known I was no stone,. 

And did not woo a mitten. 
I can not tell what fiend of hell 

Was pleased to overtake her ; 
And change to gall this whole bright ball, 

Including Minnie Baker. 

Oh ! had I wings, like other things. 

To seek a habitation. 
On Cancer's line I'd build a shrine 

And wail my desolation ; 
Procure new robes from foreign globes 

To glorify my Maker; 
Forget despairs, and hopes, and cares. 

And, also, Minnie Baker. 

Could I disclose a fifth the woes 
She piled upon my shoulder. 

You would excuse the words I use 
Nor hanker to behold her ; . 

Such deep conceit you seldom meet^ 



THE NEW year's WISH. 433 

So now the devil take her, 
What fool would sigh for such a lie, — 
A fig for Minnie Baker. 



THE NEW YEAR'S WISH. 

[from the GERMAN OF Z KE.] 

Yonder soul existence hardens 

Still to hope for ages old, 
Fields and meadows, groves and gardens, 

All his boxes filled with gold. 
Should we realize what he 
On this day desired to be, 
Then first the world was ill designed, 
And all the laws that guide mankind- 
Told a thousand years our story. 

Where would pleasure intervene ? — 
Naked temples, tresses hoary. 

And the same eternal scene. 
For the mighty throng uprising, 
Of the multitude surprising, 
Town and city compromising. 

Soon the world would be too small. 
Long as death could claim no merit, 
None on earth might lands inherit 

And the surgeon's sphere would falL 



484 THE NEW year's WISH. 

Were all men in gold as free 
As this dreaming soul would scan it, 
Then alike upon our planet 

All would ragamuflfins be ; 
Since the load of him who tarries 
None for gold or silver carries, 
Each must share the wide decree 
And his own good servant be. 
Worn-out robes must he restore 
Or wear the garbs that Adam wore. 
He must cook, and fry, and bake, 
Of the feast would he partake : . 
Winter's wood must he prepare, 
Or embrace the wintry air. 

Did we know no sinful pleasures — 

Here endowed with angel treasures — 

Oh ! it were an evil time 

For the sainted foes of crime. 

Who would be a parson even 

In our sublunary heaven 

When the layman would be better 

Than the sermon which he hears. 
And its precepts only fetter 

Where no other worth appears? 

Jurists would be solitary, 
Judges be unnecessary, 



THK NEW year's WISH. 4:)." 

"City peers and lords of nations, 
Debtor slaves and war's creations, 
Officers and musketeer, 
Drummer boy and cannoneer, 
Men and pageants military, 
Would be wares unnecessary. 

Oil ! within our earthly heaven 

Dawns a deeper, darker dread. 
For to endless sorrow driven 

Many brave would beg their bread. 

Were all maidens passing fair, 
Inward souls and outward faces, 

Neck and crown the beauty share 
Of immortfll, blooming graces, 

Too familiar were the scene 

Of a comely maiden's mien. 

And no eye would gaze upon her, 
Were each stone and grain of sand 
But a gorgeous diamond planned, 

No one then would stoop to honor. 

If the ninny knowledge knew, 
And the fool in wisdom grew, 
Did no one excel his neighbor. 
Oh ! then little might we labor. 
Nothing teaching, nothing learning, 



43() THE NEW year's WISH. 

Nothing blaming nor discerning, 
Every babbler would be sage, 
In our undisputing age, 
And the world with 3^es and no 
Sleepy, dull, and gloomy, grow. 

Yonder soul new life desires ; — 
Did nature grant what he requires. 
Then first the world was ill-designed 
And all the laws that guide mankind. 
Wouldst thou change thy situation, — 

Barren hope will not suffice 

To effect the great emprise, — 
Wouldst thou change thy situation, 

Then let each reformer try 
For the center of creation 

Is the everlasting I. 

Every I disports its missiles, 
Hwift as burning planets roll, 
Through the kingdoms of the soul. 

As it seems itself, so bristles 
Every scene we love to view. 
Gloomy tint and gorgeous hue. 

Friend, what thou mayst here obtain,. 
What thou dost of man complain, 
What thou praisest, what thou blamest,, 
What thou sayest, what thou shamest,. 



WASHINGTON KINK. 437 

Pictures not the world around 
But the soul that speaks the sound : 
All the evil thou canst see 
Only tells a tale of thee. 



WASHINGTON RINK. 

How poor were the toils of those hoary-haired sages 

Who bent o'er the billows of wisdom for years, 
Whose childhood was rocked in the cradle of ages, 

And whose fame circled wide as the paths of the 
spheres. 
Their hands could upbuild the Pyramidal piles 

And fashion the limbs of the mystical Sphinx, 
But what were their idols, their lialls, and their aisles, 

To the silver-floored splendor of Washington Rink's ! 

"When the pebbles of thought to the days of our daddies, 

Sink deep in the sea of the spiritless past, 
What sympathies wake for the lassies and laddies 

Whose blossoming years in those eras were cast : 
Oh ! how did they while the dull moments that heaved 

When the world was enchained in her frost-wedded 
link, 
While, as yet, 'mong her millions no head had conceiv- 

The Eden enclosed in a Washington Rink ! [ep 



4oS \\'ashin(;ton rink. 

Call it be that the .stars in the sky of invention 

Through all the long night of our ancestor's days 
Refused to look down from their lofty ascension, 

Till our generation shall bask in their blaze ? 
Ah ! why through lost ^^ears do we vainly explore 

The flowerbeds of pleasure in search of the pink, 
And in the parterre of Websterian lore 

Discover no bud of a Washington Rink ? 



How vague were the pastimes they deemed so excelling^ 

That filled the deep tank of our forefathers' joy, 
Ere the fox found a den or the owl sought his dwelling 

Where once stood the castles of Carthage and Troy i 
They had shared in the battle and joined in the chase^ 

Luxurious feasting and nectarine drink. 
But, ah ! what a cipher was set in the place 

We fill with the digit of Washington Rink ! 



All hail, socitil progress ! Thou giv'st to our city. 

Though far in the land of the sunset our home, 
A source of enjoyment that epic or ditty 

Has never recorded of Athens or Rome. 
What thanks shall we give thee, majestical queen. 

Of us, thy poor children, so kindly to think, 
As to build in the heart of blind Winter's demense 

A fane so colossal as Washington Rink. 



WASHINGTON RINK. 43& 

Oh ! the kings of the forest that pined for thy plunder 

Till their hearts were as nude as their branches were- 
bare, 
That cursed as they fell in their language of thunder 

The hands that unpeopled their home of the air, — 
Decapitate corpses in rollways remote 

On some ice-fettered river's precipitous brink, 
Or on wide Winnebago's dark waters afloat 

To the city that boasts of a Washington Rink. 

How far in its grandeur all others exceeding 

Is the worship they hold in those classical walls, 
How dull the assemblage religiously pleading 

In humbler apartments, through diamonded halls ;. 
In lowlier churches they kneel in their prayer, 

But here where the spirit unbridled may blink. 
Like fairies or phantoms, they flit through the air 

When deepest in worship at Washington Rink. 

Magnificent temple ! Stand forth in thy splendor 

On the picturesque bank of thy neighboring stream,.. 
Nor in forthcoming ages be lured to surrender 

Thy spectral quintessence of vanity's dream. 
May that goddess for whom thy foundation was laid 

Repel all invasions of muskrat or mink 
Till the last son of Adam shall sing with his maid 

A dying hosanna for Washington Rink. 



440 



MY DEAD COMRADE. 

How many are the hapless homes, 

Death ! whieli thou hast made, 
How many are thq catacombs 

Where friendship's heart is laid, 
How many are the weary forms 

Who plod life's lonely way 
To those cold climes of spirit storms 

That fold our kindred clay? 

Tis mine in sorrow now to share 

Their bosom-cleaving woe 
And mourn a boon companion fair 

Who molders cold and low. 
Thy chilling hand liath touched his brow 

In an untimely hour, 
And pulseless is his bosom now 

In nature's silent bower. 

Oh, why couldst thou from Adam's seeds 

Select the richest germ, 
The only flower 'mongst many weeds, 

To feed the glutton worm ! 
Couldst thou not guide thy cruel dart 

To some more guilty throne 
And spare the deep, unsullied heart 

Where wrong was never known ? 



MY COMRADE. 441 

November's tempest armies sweep 

All things that summers grow ; 
Alike the rose and thistle sleep 

Beneath December's snow ; 
But, dark death ! thy sad decree 

Just nature's laws deplore ; 
'The thistle lives and smiles on thee, 

But the rose is seen no more. 



I mark the throngs of idleness 

That day by day pass on. 
While gloomy thoughts my bosom press 

To think that thou art gone. 
Ah ! I lament that vice should live 

So many a cloudless day 
When all that fate to thee could give 

Was a dungeon wall of clay. 



.Ye feathered tenants of the bough 

Unguarded of annoy, 
Why pour such streams of gladness now 

That deep must be your joy, 
When he who loved of all mankind 

To hear you singing there 
May never more the rapture find 

That once his soul could share ? 



442 MY COMRADE. 

Ye ruby gems of hill and vale, 

Why bloom so fair this hour ; 
For soon, alas, shall you inhale 

The breath of winter's power. 
And 'tis but meet that he who prized 

The prairie blossoms dear, 
When life's last hope is realized. 

Should claim a flowery tear. 



heartless man, why so rejoice 

While 1 unheeded mourn, 
If sorrow's crown must be your choice 

When joy is over-worn ? 
Full deep within your bosoms lie 

The fountains of decay, 
And you shall echo by and by 

What I complain to-day. 



Cold man, glad bird, and heedless flower, 

Fill each yoar course of joy 
Ere nature's autumn-frosted power 

Your fondest hopes destroy. 
For me no other joys appear, 

None other do I crave. 
Than drop an undissembled tear 

Upon my comrade's grave. 



MY COMRADE. 443 

Thougli never more thy face I view 

And pale that face may be, 
More than all worlds, my comrade true, 

Is that cold face to me ; 
And peace to me will come again, 

Nor hope I rest before. 
When I forsake the haunts of men 

To ramble earth no more. 



But sleep, dear friend, in slumbers lone 

Where thy earthen bed is made, 
Till the ivy crown thy crumbling stone 

And the myrtle droop its shade, 
A warmer heart than lowly lies 

Beneath thy mound of clay 
Did never in the bosoms rise 

Of those who nurse decay. 



Farewell, my friend, thy life is closed, 

No more will you and I 
Behold the climes where we reposed 

When youth went laughing by ; 
The birds may sing their sweetest vow 

And summer flowers may bloom, 
They cannot warm thy fancy now. 

My comrade, in the toml). 



444 ouK ojj) JiKiii s('ii()(_)i, IN '61. 

And when at last my soul has passed 

From earth's material borne, 
Oh, would that i-ound niv grave were cast 

The gems which thine adorn ; 
And when we hear the trumpeter 

From mountain, tomb, and sea. 
To judgment dread call forth the dead. 

IVIav I but be with thee. 



OUR OLD HIGH SCHOOL IN '61. 

Twenty years ago this spring — 

Busy thought doth flutter back 
On our memory's wizard wing 

To that school in Fond du Lac. 
Yet it seems but yesterday 

Tliat we watched tlie ruthless clock, 
As it ticked the hours away, 

In the high school gravel block. 
Though the moons and years have flown 

Since we all were gatliered there, 
And though some too well have known 

Of distress, and pain, and care, 
Time sped on, like transient dreams 

In its evanescent flow. 
And, as fleeting as it seems, 

It is twenty years ago. 



OUR OLD HIGH SCHOOL IN T)l. 445 

What a gay group filled its isles ! 

Ah ! I see their faces still, 
Spangled o'er with joyous smiles 

And unconscious of all ill. 
Prudence taught them each to arm 

For the life that lay beyond, 
Lest they find the struggle warm 

And in combat should despond. 
Sunny eyes and brows were there, 

Many a good and kindly heart ; 
After years brought them despair 

That may never more depart. 
Cheeks wore bloom in those old days, 

And our lives were all aglow — 
Still it thrills me — the weird haze — 

Of those twenty years ago. 

Youths just launched on man's career 

To disport in unknown seas, 
Full of hope assembled here, 

And they plucked from science' trees 
Each his share of the rich fruit 

Which peeped out beneath the bough. 
The w^eak forces to recruit 

'iliat were bivouacked in his brow. 
Hearts were full of blossoms then, 

Rich and rare chameleon leaves ; 
Theirs the spirit that makes men, 



446 OUR OLD HIGH SCHO JL IN '61. 

Alid the soul that never grieves. 
Dreamed they not of bhghts that fall 

Over all we know below ; 
When their bosoms knew no pall, 

It was twenty years ago. 

Oh, how mild and debonair, 

When the woodlands were in tune, 
Were thy maidens, pure and fair 

As the roses are in June ! 
Like the flowers that flecked the vales, 

In their beauty, fresh and bright ; 
Like the minstrel nightingale's, 

Swelled their voices with delight. 
All the building's avenues 

Were resplendent with their grace. 
As the ever changing hues 

Of the heart sweep o'er each face. 
Happ3' and enchanted hours 

That we never more can know 
In the lone and faded bowers 

Of those twenty years ago. 

Call to-day from their retreats 
All the forms we knew so well 

As they drifted to their seats 
At the tinkle of the bell. 

Far and wide the billows swept 



OUR OLD HIGH SCHOOL IN '61. 447 

And divided that young band, 
All have laughed, and most have wept. 

Some are in the better land. 
Some expired in quiet rooms, 

Others perished far away 
'Mid the cannon's fitful booms 

In the battle's awful day. 
Age, and care, and toil, have rocked 

Us asunder — to and fro. 
How thy hopes have all been mocked, 

Thoughtless twenty years ago ! 

All professions, trades, and toils. 

Have those pupils' hands unfurled ; 
They have garnered many spoils 

From a hard and stormy world. 
.Some marched out with patriot bands, 

Served their country in its wars, 
Left their footprints in the sands 

Crimsoned with the paint of Mars. 
Useful be each life's employ 

While its checkered lot endures ; 
Little tears and much of joy 

As this mortal life secures. 
Comrades of those olden days, 

Melting like the spring-time snow, 
Who of us will live to praise 

Two times twenty years ago ? 



448 



TO JAMES BOWE, ESQ. 

What saintly visions cluster round 

Our young companion peers 
When memory treads the sacred ground 
Or bends beside burial-mound, 

Of long departed years ! 

When stranger waves would seek control 

Of hope's uprising mast, 
How^ far we flee each sandy shoal 
And veer the vessel of the soul 

To havens of the past ! 



'Tis thus, m}' friend, through ample doors 

My thoughts walk out to thee, 
And the fountain of my spirit pours 
A duteous stream through silvan shores 
To friendship's placid sea. 



Com mutual bliss of hours long flown 

'Twas thine and mine to feel, 
And now, as bright as once she shone,, 
Let pleasure re-assert her throne. 
To pay my debt of zeal. 



TO JAMES BOWL, ESQ. 449 

Full loth would I the joy forego 

That sparkles in my breast, 
Some backward glances still to throw 
Upon that sunny long ago 

Which tliou and I possessed. 

But ah ! what shades the fates decree 

Since those glad years of yore 
To gloom our haunts of jubilee ; 
For comrades dear to thee and me 

Walk forth with us no more. 

And some are laid in foreign lands 
And some where laurels bloom ; 
Above their breasts' dissolving sands 
All piously they fold their hands 
In temples of the tomb. 

Of those who live, ah ! where reside 

Our dearest and our best ; 
Where now are seen all far and. wide 
The hearts that panted side by side 

And leaped from breast to breast ? 

E'en I from thee can scarcely share 

The specter of a smile, . 

While separation veils the air, 

Or jeers me with the impish stare 
Of many a saucy mile. 



450 TO JAMES BOVVE, ESQ. 

Yet what enjoyment 'tis to trace 

As one by one depart, 
The photograph of some kind face 
That fills its dear allotted place 

In the album of the heart ! 

Think not, my friend, that flattery's veins 

Return the tides of youth, 
Nor dream I dwell in those domains 
Where rank exaggeration stains 

The spotless robes of truth. 

And yet how keen the joy to find. 

In whirlpool life below, 
A friend, like thee, whose kingly mind 
Proclaims thee one of human kind 

That thousands yet shall know. 

Through many an evanescent hour 

That time around me fiung, 
'Twas mine in childhood's elfin bower 
To cull the bloom of friendship's flower 
From wreathes thy fingers strung. 

And when thy years the hight had won 

Where light of manhood glows. 
What joy to see thy form uprun 
That, like the heaven-ascending sun, 
Beamed brighter as it rose. 



CELIA. 451 

Behold the bough of lore still droops 

With honeycombs of dew 
Where once 'twas thine to lead the troops 
Of all the gay, convening groups 

Thy toilsome childhood knew. 

And, ah ! though yet they spin the line 

With all the powers of age, 
Thy young companions when they shine, 
Must turn them back te thee and thine, 

To find their brightest page. 



CELIA. 



Let me dream of the days of my childhood again. 

Let me weep for companions that meet me no more; 
Again 1 would wander through grove and through glen 

In those magical isles where 'I rambled of yore. 
Poor Celia ! How sweet were thy moments and mine 

As we strolled in the meadow or stood by the mill, 
No thought of the future, no broad mountain pine, 

Ever darkened the orb of thy life's azure hill. 

Thy soul was as bright as a smile of the sun, 
And as pure as the tear in an angel's blue eye, 

A spirit more fair than my sanctified one 
Will never be seen on this shore of the sky. 



452 NO MORE. 

But thy silk of existence was wasted too soon 
By the moth of disease and the mildew of care, 

And when thou wert sought in the calmness of noon 
The dew of the morning had melted to air. 

Too dimly the star of my bosom goes down, 

Too wildly the tides of my bitterness flow, 
The hills of my fancy are yellow and brown, [blow. 

Long, long ere the bleak winds of autumn should 
Ah ! Celia, I learned when I knew thou wert dead 

That grief, like the field, has a season to bloom, 
For my heart ever buds as it bends o'er the bed 

Of the lilies and daisies that shingle thy tomb. 



NQ MORE. 

Frail as flowers of summer bloom, 

Or flake of falling snow. 
Sad memory paints to pensive gloom 

The scenes of long ago, 
And ever wails tlie parting doom 

Of all we now deplore 
That slumbers in the haunted tomb 

Of time that is no more. 



NO MORE. 453 

As fleeting as the flakes and flowers, 

Or robe of morning dew, 
On snow-crowned hill or summer bowers 

Departing from our view, 
When sunbeams glow and tempest lowers 

And days of bloom are o'er, 
Were those sweet scenes of sunn}^ hours 

That we shall see no more. 



As tender as the lily's brow 

That angels' smiles unfold, — 
As glowing as the grandeur now 

In evening's crown of gold. 
Around some form our souls endow 

With more than love may store, 
Was manhood plight or virgin vow 

To one that is no more. 



Dear as the moonbeam's feeble ray 

Above a darkened sky, 
When mists enrobe the parting day 

And howling winds are high, 
To guide the wand'rer led astray 

While clouds inclement pour, 
Is memory tracing far away 

Some home that is no more. 



454 NO MORE. 

Mild as the rainbow's fading grace, 

Or shade of summer cloud, 
The vision round some hallowed place 

Of bridal or of shroud, 
While memory's ftiithful pencils trace 

In scenes we still adore 
The sunlight of some happy face 

That we shall see no more. 



As transient as the bubble seen 

On ocean's surging wave, 
As changing as the ocean sheen 

Aliove an ocean grave, 
We hail far down some pallid mien 

Beneath the billow's roar, 
Or weep beside the earth-clod green 

O'er hearts that are no more. 



Like autumn leaves tliat strew the ground 

When fields are bleak and l)are. 
Or viewless atoms floating round 

Wide wilderness of air, 
The countless millions coffiii-bound 

That once our evils bore 
Who swell the weeping-willow mound 

(_)f those that are no more. 



THE PRIVATE SOLDIER. 455 

But brighter than the summer sun 

When skies are mild and fair 
And half his cloudless race is run 

In the azure waste of air, 
Each crown the kind-departed won 

Beyond our stormy shore 
That gems the brow of virtue's son 

When ages roll no more. 



THE PRIVATE SOLDIER. 

My country! Remember thy chieftains who bore 
The brunt of thy battles that thunder no more ; 
Remember the leaders and blazon each name 
High on the towers of thy limitless fame. 
They deserve that thou l)uildest the urn and the bust 
Above the green sheet that encloses their dust ; 
But never, fair land, till thy glory decline. 
Forget the brave soldier who fought in the line. 

While the high-titled warrior exultingly led, 
'Twas the plain private soldier that suffered and bled ; 
'Twas he, where the torrent of slaughter was poured, 
That leveled the musket and wielded the sword ; 
That stood on no shallow nor empty pretence, 
But bared his brave breast in his country's defense. 



456 THK PRIVATE SOLDIEK. 

That the silk-woven stars of his nation might shine 
In the sky of the private that shot in the hne. 

The stout private soldier pursued his stern trade, 
- He watched on the picket and rode on the raid ; 
He waded through streams in their pitiless flow, 
And he slept on the ground in a blanket of snow : 
Through illness and health, as his destiny carved, 
In the pestilent prison he sutfered and starved ; 
He stood in the trenches, he delved in the mine, 
The plain private soldier that marched in the line. 

It was he that confronted the frown of disease, 
The miasma of swamps, and the surf of the seas. 
The desolate marches o'er mountain and plain, 
In the red sultry sun and the cold sleety rain : 
It was he that far off from the home of his pride, 
From the smile ol^his sweetheart, the kiss of his bride, 
Who could hear his sad comrades, all helpless repine, 
For the poor bleeding soldier that fell in the line. 

The strife and the shock of the onset he Ijore, 
Far out on the ocean, and high on the shore ; 
Where dangers descended in desolate flocks, 
And the breakers of battle dashed liberty's rocks; 
Where the black iron throats of artillery roared. 
Where the hot leaden tempest of carnage was poured. 



THE PRIVATE SOLDIER. 457 

It was he that far off from tlie liome of bis pride, 
From the smile of his sweetheart, the kiss of his bride. 
Who could hear his sad comrades, all helpless, repine 
For the poor bleeding soldier that fell in the line. 

And it was not the guerdon of glory or gold 

That made him a hero invincibly bold, 

That made him blaze out, like a rainbow, to bless 

In the stormiest hours of his country's distress. 

It was duty alone in his bosom that glowed 

To discharge to that country the debt which he owed. 

This alone was the lodestar, the sanctified shrine. 

Of the patriot private that cheered in the line. 

The strife and the shock of the onset he bore, 
Far out on the ocean, and high on the shore. 
Where dangers descended in desolate flocks. 
And the breakers of battle dashed liberty's rocks. 
Where the black iron throats of artillery roared, 
Where the hot leaden tempest of carnage was poured, 
Along the low vale, or beside the dark pine, [line. 
'Twas the brave hearted private that charged in the 

Triumphant Columbia! Time will engage 
To honor thy captains on history's page : 
But take to thy bosom that child of thine own, — 
The poor private soldier, unnamed and unknown. 



458 THOMAS F. MCkENiSTA. 

'Neath the rainbow of peace in prosperity's hours 
O'ercircle the vaneys and gather the flowers, 
The hohest wreaths of sad love to entwine 
For thy brave private soldier that died in the line. 



THOMAS F. MeKENNA. 

DiKD Dec. 21x1, 1s74, Aokd 21. 
E'en for those who read its page 
To a lorn and palsied age, 
While it slowly disappears 
O'er the surge of cares and tears; — 
Who have worn its edges bare 
With the brambles of despair ; 
E'en to those with want and woe 
Hand in hand that ever go, 
Who, 'neath fortune's frozen frown 
Lay the long-borne burden down, — 
Save a small and starless few, 
Sad to all its life's adieu. 

But oh ! bitter, sorrow-fraught, 
Is the blackness of the thought, 
When the dark destroyer's art 
Chills the soul and spans the heart; 
Where the billows heave and roll 
Through a bright aspiring soul, 



THOMAS F. MCKENNA. 459 

And the wing of hope is high 
In a broad undarkened sky. 
Ere the sun's undimmed ascent, 
Pauses in the firmament. 

Ere thy star might fully shine, 

Or thy soul explore the mine 

Which, thy comrades all could see. 

Glory had in store for thee ; 

At the budding of the flower. 

In an ill-starred frosty hour. 

While thy spring was bright and green, 

Death o'erspanned the hopeful scene, 

And the fetters of thy bier 

Checked alone a high career. 

Fortune's wings had found thee not; 
Rising from a lowly cot, 
Hour by hour and day by day, 
Thou didst toil thy rugged way ; 
And, although thy life was brief, — 
But a tender April-leaf, — 
Yet with proud unbending will, 
Struggling up the thorny hill, 
Thy companions saw with pride 
Worth and knowledge grace thy tide, 
Till thou won'st an honored place 
'Mongst the brightest of thy race. 



460 THOMAS F. MCKENNA. 

When thy toils were backward cast, 
And the darkUng clouds had passed, 
When the world was steeped in glee,- 
All the future Ijright for thee, — 
When thy beams of fortune shone 
O'er an ever broadening zone ; 
Perad venture, it was well 
That eternal silence fell 
O'er the brightness of thy life ; 
Ere the bitterness of strife. 
Or of cares, and toils, and tears. 
Deepened with advancing years ; 
Ere the scenes of storm and sleet 
Those surviving thee must meet. 



Oh ! we hope that nothing mars 
Thy repose among the stars, 
That thou shar'st a purer glow 
Than our earthly life can know. 
That the Being, great and grand. 
Who all things in wisdom planned, 
Gives to thee a mead more dear 
Than could grace thy triumph here. 

AVhere deception's minions meet 
And her angry billows beat, 
We have seen thine eyelids close 



CALVARY CEMETERY. 461 

On the world and all its woes, 
On its gilded hollowness, 
On its darkness and distress. 

May the angels vigil keep 
O'er thy everlasting sleep, 
And thy spirit blithesome be 
All throughout eternity. 



CALVARY CEMETERY. 

Lines on its Dedication, at Fond du Lac, Wis., Oct. 20, '89. 

Oh, solemn be the words we say 
This glorious bright October day ! 
The omnipresent eye of God 
Surveys this consecrated sod. 
We wear no crown of sorrow now, 
No grief is throned upon the brow ; 
We come to-day with reverent tread 
To found a city for the dead, 
To choose a spot where by and by 
Our ashes cold, perchance, shall lie. 

Full oft within this field serene 
AVill sorrow come to dim the scene ; 
The hearse, the coffin, and the bier. 
Will come with us to gather here, 



462 CALVARY CEMETERY. 

And many tombs shall cluster round 
The summit of this burial ground ; — 
Where thousands come with bosoms brave, 
And meet to-day without a grave. 

The long and weary pilgrimage, 
The stooping form of weak old age, 
And manhood in his stalwart prime 
Shall droop before the scythe of time ; 
The guileless child, with fading eye 
Shall lay its little playthings by, 
And, nevermore to shed a tear, 
Will fold its arms in slumber here. 

The vain, who deem tlieir deeds endure, 

The lowly, suffering, cheerless poor, 

The bright young maid whose tear will flow; 

To part from all she loved below; 

The bridegroom from the wedding feast. 

Physician, lawyer, merchant, priest. 

Shall lonely here be laid away 

And calmly wait the judgment day. 

Here on each grave along the line 
The sun will beam, the stars will shine. 
The sweet flowers grace advancing spring. 
Some briglit bird come his song to sing; 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 463 

And o'er the sod that hides us all, 
The cloud will float, the snowflake fall, 
The fitful hreeze of summer blow, 
And winter weave his robes of snow. 

But when mankind forbears to chide, 
When we have lived, and wept, and died, 
When all our toils of life are o'er. 
When we can meet with men no more, 
When th' last fair form has passed away 
Of all who tread these grounds to-day : 
Oh ! that some friend will kneel and weep 
Among the graves where we shall sleep, 
And ask of Heaven the gracious claim 
To keep our souls in mercy's name. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 

Prep.ired by request, and read April 30, 1889, at Fand da Lac.Wis., on the occasion 
of the centennial celebration of the presidential inauguration of Geo. Washington. 



Proud was the scene in the century gone 
On that April day of our nation's dawn 
When freedom smiled with a heavenly grace 
On the natal liour of a sturdy race, 
On the gathered host of a brilliant band. 
The founders brave of a state so grand. 
To that pregnant hour of hopes and cheers. 
The heart beats back through a hundred years. 



464: ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 

Let memory sweep to that glorious star 
AVho was " first in peace and first in war ; " 
Who soared so high, but who left behind 
A patriot's name that exalts mankind ; 
That beams o'er the world with a light sublime, 
iVnd matchless shines in the sky of time ; 
Who assumed the trust of his country's sway, 
One hundred years ago to-day. 

Seasons have passed in their flight since then, 
And death spread his wings in the homes of men. 
The statesman, the soldier, the pure, and the 

brave, — 
Nobody halts on the march to tlie grave, — 
And the hallowed dust of the chieftain sleeps 
Where the somber blue Potomac sweeps. 
Where the breezes blow and the lilacs bloom. 
And silence sits on Vernon's tomb. 

Serene and grand that chieftain stood 
Before the surging multitude, 
Enveloped new with freedom's flame. 
That saw his face and loved his name ; 
That sang the anthems of the free. 
That pealed the chimes of liberty. 
That cheered and marched in proud array 
One hundred years ago to-day. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 465 

Where are those moving thousands now ? 

Not one remains to pledge a vow 

In memory of his comrades gone, 

Or speak the name of Washington. 

We look for tlie smiles that once they wore, 

But the search is vain. They will smile no more. 

A¥e call the roll, luit none respond, — 

All dwellers now in the dark heyond. 

There were white souls there as the stainless snow 
Tliat immortal day of the long ago ; 
There were nursing bahes in that day's parades, 
And stalwart men and beauteous maids. 
Mothers, and sons, and wives, and sii-es. 
Wrapped in the glow of the patriot's fires. 
And heroes of many a gliastly atfray. 
One hundred years ago to-day. 

One l)y one to the grave they have filed — 
The stalwart man, and the sinless child ; 
But the land they loved and the tlag they bore 
Are as l)right to-day as they seemed of yore. 
The same sun shines in the dome above. 
The same God reigns on His throne of love, 
And millions bow^ in reverent thought 
Of the glorious deeds that our fathers wrought. 



4G6 ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 

We are proud, indeed, of a da}^ like this. 
'Tis a hallowed scene that we would not miss. 
Where the christian priest and the exiled Jew, — 
All who have souls to their country true, — 
Where each may kneel at his chosen shrine, 
And, looking up to the Throne Divine, 
Give heartfelt praise for a gift so grand 
As our country's sire and his patriot band. 

Since the fateful hour of our nation's birth, — 
Fair, graceful queen of the climes of earth. 
Dark hours came with a bittei> flood 
Of human tears and liuman blood, 
Carnage lit her Ephesian dom^s. 
And sorrow swept o'er a million homes. 
Death stalked abroad in the dreadful van, 
Destruction fell upon helpless man : 
Bat the fierce cloud passed in its swath of fiame, 
The foeman fell and the triumph came ; 
And that same flag which our fathers bore. 
In the howling storm and the battle's roar. 
Preserved by the blood of countless bands. 
By loyal hearts, and by valiant hands, 
Triumphant waves where the angels pray. 
And adorns this lowly stage to-day. 

I thank thee, Heaven ! for thy bounteous hand. 
Thy blessings showered on this great free bmd. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 467 

Wherever history's eye explores 

The mountain's side or the ocean's shores, 

From out the misty shadows cast 

O'er all the realms of the silent past, 

Where'er yon kindling sun doth shine, 

There is no happier land than mine. 

One hundred years from this buoyant day 
Will witness the scene of a grand array ; 
There is no one here who will triumph there, 
For we will be far from the haunts of care. 
Oh ! Proud be the swell of our country's tide. 
Her armies shout and her navies ride, 
Though our brows be cold and our lij^s all dumb. 
In the hundred years that is next to come. 

Our native land ! from sea to sea 
Thy gallant sons are proud of thee. 
Oh ! thou canst never meet a foe 
That shall have power to lay thee low ; 
Though treason shout its wild alarms, 
Though all the world leap out in arms, 
While a freeman's sword shall lead the van 
And Heaven looks down on the deeds of man. 

Thy children's love thy life secures ; 
And while yon firmament endures. 
While one bright star of all remains, 



468 ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 

And the christian's God of mercy reigns; 
While this frail earth as freight shall bear 
One human soul its chance to share; 
While future millions live to pray 
And celebrate this glorious day ; 
Columbia ! may thy glory climb 
Far up the mighty spjre of time, 
Thy proud career but only pause 
When eartii be crushed in nature's laws ; 
Each century new strength reveal, 
And thy eternal progress wheel, 
Co-heiress of the rolling spheres, — 
Ten thousand times a hundred years. 



NOTES. 



NOTE 1.— ERRORS. 

It will, no doubt, ba observed that occasional errors, 
orthographical and grammatical, as well as errors in 
punctuation, have crept into the text. It was the 
author's intention to have taken these up seriatim and 
have them connected in an errata to this volume ; but, 
inasmuch, as the present edition is limited, and more 
especially on account of his inability to spare the neces- 
sary time; and inasmuch, also, as its publication has al- 
ready been unusually delayed ; he has concluded to leave 
the subject as it i-. Suffice it to say, without being 
harshly reminded of those inaccuracies, — patent as 
many of them are, — that no one can be more painfully 
conscious of their presence than he is himself. With 
more time at his command, many of them could, and 
undoubtedly would, be avoided or removed. For the 
present, with this simple remark, the entire subject is 
dismissed ; not, however, without expressing a hope 
that his readers will be as indulgent as they may. 

NOTE 2.— THE PIONEER. Page 13. 

"Although the acquaintance of the nations of Europe 
with the western part of the earth is the main subject of 
our consideration in this section, and that, around which 
the numerous relations of a more correct and a grander 
view of the universe are grouped, we must yet draw a 



470 NOTES. 

strong line of separation between the undoubted first 
discovery of America, in its northern portions, by the 
Northmen, and its subsequent re-discovery; in its trop- 
ical regions. Whilst the Caliphate still flourished un- 
der the Abassides at Bagdad, and Persia was under the 
dominion of the Samanides, whose age was so f ivorable 
to poetry, America was discovered in the year 1000 by 
Leif, the son of Eric the Red, by the northern route, 
and as far as 41 degrees and 30 minutes north lati- 
tude. The first, although accidental, incitement 
towards this event emanated from Norway. Towards 
the close of the ninth century Naddod was driven 
by storms to Iceland whilst attem})ting to reach 
the Faroe Islands which had already been visited by 
the Irish. The first settlement of the Northmen was 
made in 875 by Ingolf . Greenland, the eastern penin- 
sula of a land which appears to be everywhere separated 
Ijy the sea from America Proper, was early seen, al- 
though it was first peopled from Iceland a hundred 
years later (983). The colonization of Iceland, which 
Naddod first called Snowland, (Snjoland) was carried 
tlirough Greenland in a southwestern direction to the 
New Continent." ***** 

"Notwithstanding the proximity of the opposite 
shores of Labrador (Helluland it Mikla), 125 years 
elapsed from its first settlement of the Northmen in Ice- 
land to Leif s great discovery of America. So small 
were the means possessed by a noble, enterprising, but 
not wealthy race for furthering navigation in these re- 
mote and dreary regions of the earth. The littoral 
tracts of Vinland, so called by the German 'J'yrker from 
the wild grapes that were found there, delighted its dis- 
coverers by the fruitfulness of the soil, and the mild- 
ness of its climate, when compared with Iceland and 
Greenland. This tract, which was named by Leif the 



NOTES. 471 

"Good Vinland" (^^inland it goda), comprised the coast 
line, between Boston and New York, and parts of 
the present states of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and 
Connecticut, between the parahels of hititude Civita 
Vecchia, and Terracina, wliich, liowever, correspond 
there only to mean annual temperatures of 47.8 deg. 
and 52.1 deg. This was tlie principal settlement of the 
Northmen. The colonists had often to contend with a vei y 
warlike race of Esquimaux, who then extended further 
to the south under the names of Skralinger. The first 
Bishop of Greenland, Eric Upsi, an Icelander, undertook, 
in 11 21, a christian mission to Vinland; and the name 
of the colonized country has been discovered in old 
national songs of the inhabitants of the Faroe Islands. 
"The activity and Ijold spirit of enterprise manifested 
by the Greenland and Icelandic adventurers are proved 
by tlie circumstance that, after they had established 
settlements south of 41 degrees and 80 minutes north 
latitude, they erected there, boundary pillars on the 
eastern shores of Baffin's Bay at the latitude of 72 de- 
grees and 55 minutes on one of the Woman's Islands, 
north-west of the present most northern Dan- 
ish colony of Upernavick. The Runic descriptions, 
which were discovered in the autumn of 1824, according 
to Rask and Fimi Magnusen, the date 1135. From this 
eastern coast of Baffin's Bay, more than 600 years be- 
fore the bold expeditions of Parry and Ross, the colon- 
ists very regularly visited Lancaster ^ound and a part 
of Barrow's Straits for the puj-pose of fishing. The lo- 
cality of the fishing ground is very definitely described, 
and Greenland priests, from the bishopric of Gardar, 
conducted the first voyage of discovery (1226). This 
north-western summer station was called Kroksfjarclar 
Heath. Mention is even made of the driftwood (un- 



472 ^"OTES. 

doubtedly from Siberia) collected there, and of the abun- 
dance of whales, seals, walruses, and sea bears. 

"Certain accounts of the iiitercourse maintained be- 
tween the extreme North of iCurope, or between Green- 
land and Iceland with the American Continent, prop- 
erly so called, do not extend beyond the 34th century. 
In the year of 1347, a ship was sent from Greenland to 
Markland (Nova Scotia) to collect building timber and 
other necessary articles. On the return yoyage the 
ship encountered heavy storms, and was obliged to take 
refuge at Straumfjord, in the west of Iceland. These 
are the latest accounts preserved to us by ancient Scan- 
dinavian authorities of the visits of Northmen to Am- 
erica. 

"We have hitherto kept strictly on historical gi'ound 
By means of the critical and highly praiseworthy efforts 
01 Christian Kafn and of the Royal Society of the North- 
ern Anticparies at Copenhagen, the sagas and narra- 
tives of the voyages of the Northmen to Helluland 
(Newfoundland)toMarkland (the mouth of the St. Law- 
rence and Nova Scotia) and to Vinland (Massachusetts) 
have been separately printed, accompanied by able 
commentaries. The lengtli of the voyage, the direc- 
tion of its course, and the times of the rising and set- 
ting of tlie sun are all minutely detailed." 

The foregoing extract is taken fi'om Ilundjoldt's Cos- 
mos, Vol. 2, pp. G03 to G07. 

This composition undertakes to give some of the in- 
cidents in the life of one of thos« early adventurers 
who lived and died hundreds of yeai's ago within the 
very same territory now end)raced in the limits of the 
New England States. 



NOTES. 473 

NOTE 3.— IRENA'S LESSON. Page 54. 

Constantinople was overthrown by Sultan Moham- 
met II, May 29th, 1453. The Byzantme empire which 
had borne and preserved through the dark ages the 
light of letters and civilization, was prostrate at the 
feet of the invading and conquering barbarians. On 
April 6th, 1453, the Turks appeared before the city Math 
an army of 400,000 men. Constantine XIII, the last 
Byzantine Emperor, lost his life, heroically defend- 
ing the breach. The city, on its overthrow, was given 
over to rapine and the larger immber of its inhabitants 
sold into slavery. There was one christian lady, among 
the unfortunate residents of the ill-fated city, who came 
under the notice of the Mohammedan conqueror, and 
whom he not only spared from the general humiliation 
and persecution of the conquered people, but whom he 
placed in his court, and on whom he bestowed the high- 
est favors and most distinguished honors. Indeed her 
influence in his court, and her ascendency over him 
were so great, as to become noticeable to his subjects, 
and obnoxious to them. They could not endure that a 
christian captive should have more influence with their 
monarch than almost any other person of even his own 
creed in all his dominions. Finally, after her long sup- 
remacy, to quell the the dissatisfaction of his people, he 
resolved to make a public sacrifice of his favorite, 
and she was, accordingly, beheaded with his own hand. 
Such is a brief outline of the incidents which furnish 
the subject of " Irena's Lesson." 

NOTE 4.— HORATIO'S HISTORY. Page 118. 

This was written shortly after the close of the 
great civil war of the United States, of '61 to '65, in which 



474 NOTES. 

it was the fortune and privilege of the author to have 
been a humble participant, and while the echoes of that 
conflict were still resounding throughout the nation. Were 
he to attempt the same task now, when the stern realities 
of that convulsive period are but memories, softened and 
dimmed by the lapse of time, the result would no doubt 
be somewhat different. He leaves it, however, as it is, as 
he left it then, containing not an overdrawn presentation 
of some scenes which in those days were but the common, 
experience of thousands of American homes. 



NOTE 5.— ELVA LEE. Page 180. 
This was published in book-form in 1868, at Chicago, 111. 

NOTE 6.— MELCHA'S MISSION. Page 223. 

The incident, upon which this composition is founded, 
is thus stated in the first division of the "History of Ireland 
by Sylvester O'Halloran, " on pp. 220—221. 

"Tlie oppressions the Irish nation labored under contin- 
ued during almost the entire of Malachie's reign ; and for 
a period of thirteen years, we read of no generous effort 
made by this prince to restore peace and liberty to his 
country, except the few attempts made in the fir.st year 
of his administration. The event, however, proves that, 
far from wanting abilities, genius, or courage, he was, in 
the main, as great a statesman and general as an}^ na- 
tion produced; but the nerves by which onl}^ these tal- 
ents and virtues could be called forth, had not yet suffered 
the slightest vibration. Neither the love of glory, or of 
his country, were the predominant passions of Malachie; 
as is evident by his abject passivenessfor so many years, 
but the measure of the iniquities of Turgesius, and of his 



NOTES. 475 

barbarous hosts, was now filled, and the vengfeance of an 
afflicted people was to be satisfied. 

"Turgesius, accustomed to the most passive obe- 
dience, and wantonly indulging every lawless passion, 
had seen the lovely Melcha, daughter to the monarch, 
and was resolved to enjoy her. He found means to make 
his desires known to her, but they were rejected witti dis- 
dain. He applied to her father, and probably with an in- 
tent to make her his wife, thereby to give some appearance 
of justice to the entailing of the supreme command of Ire- 
land in his family; but this last is a mere surmise of 
mine, unsupported by any authority. That he requested 
the father's interest to procure him the daughter is cer- 
tain ; and now it was that these passions, which the Jove 
of his country could not inspire, blazed forth, and, in 
the insults offered to his name and family, Malachie 
wept, over the distresses of his country, and sought to re- 
medy them. In order to gain time, he requested of Tur- 
gesius two days to prepare his daughter for this sacrifice 
and. in return for this condescension, he engaged that she 
should be attended by fifteen of the finest virgins in 
Meath (for this tyrant's residence was near Tara,) in order 
to be disposed of among his principal favorites. The Dane 
agreeing to this, JMalachie became more composed, and, 
we are told, proposed to him the following question, prob- 
ably to determine his own future conduct : 'What (says 
he) shall we do to clear the country effectually of a par- 
cel of foreign birds, lately come among us, of a most pest- 
iferous nature?' Tlie tyrant, not aware of the tendency of 
the question, answered ; 'If they build nests, you can nev- 
er hope to root them out without destroying these nests 
everywhere.' This plainly pointed out to Malachie, that, 
in his meditated scheme of ruining the Danes, to insure 
success, he must destroy their castles, also. 
"Malachie, immediately after this, retired to his palace to 



476 NOTES. 

consider more at leisure the conduct he si lould pursue. 
"To sacrifice his daughter to a heathen Dane, the tyrant 
and usurper of his country ! his soul recoiled at the 
thought ! The shortness of the time and the numbers of 
Danish enemies, and spies in every nook of the Kingdom, 
could not shake him from his purpose. With wonderful 
secrecy, he had procured fifteen heardless young men, 
but with hearts burning to avenge the cause of their 
countrv; and these were to be attired in female habits 
each with a dirk concealed, to attend the princess of Ire- 
land to the castle of Turgesius. He, at thesame time, call- 
ed together a few of his most faithful adherents and 
opened to them his intentions. Expresses were also sent 
with the greatest privacy, from prince to prince, and 
from chief to chief, exhorting them to fall everywhere 
upon the perfidious Danes, as expeditiously as possible, 
on the day luarked down, by which means they would 
be disabled from affording relief to each other. During 
these preparations, thoughts of love only, filled the breast 
of the amorous Dane. He prepared a most sumptuous 
bancjuet, to which he invited his chief favorites to cele- 
brate the reception of his mi«tr«.-ss with great splendor. 

"The evening of the fatal day approached, the princess 
with her attendants advanced towards the castle of Tur- 
gesius, and the father with a throbbing heart, anxious 
for the issue of the great events, prepared, with his forces, 
secretly and speedily to follow. Tlie directions given to 
the young men were; the moment they preceived the Dane 
advancing tow;irds the princess, they were to sieze him 
and manacle, but by no means, kill him. A sign agreed 
on was then to be given, the gates to be burst open, and 
Malachie, and his party without, were to force in and 
put the garrison to the sword, Turgesius only ex- 
cepted ; all which were executed with as much courage 
and exactness, as they were planned with secrecy and 



NOTES. 477 

wisdom. Malachie, now in possession of the tyrant, 
liad him led in fetters in the midst of his troops, the 
better to encourage his countrymen and intimidate tlie 
Danes, who, without head or hearts, feU everywhere an 
easy prey to the encouraged Irish. In a short time the 
country became clear of their hostile troops, either fall- 
ing in battle or escaping by their ships, and an armed 
Dane was not to be seen in the land! Liberty was pro- 
claimed, the remains of the clergy and literati came forth 
from their lurking places, and many of those who fledto 
France, returned. Churcties and monesteries were re- 
consecrated, colleges and universities again opened, and 
such works as could be gleaned, or had escaped the 
Danish conflagrations, were carefully collected. The 
glory of Malachie, and the greatness of his exploits, 
were the themes of the Senachies and Bards, and the 
kingdom re-echoed the sound. 

"It was, however, decreed that Turgesius should be 
])ut to death, and it was done in the most public man- 
ner, he being thrown into Loch-Ainin, bound hand and 
foot in the presence of his surviving countrymen and 
thousands of spectators." 

History records this event as taking place. A. D., 862. 
'J'his same subject has been treated by Charles Lever in 
a humorous poem entitled "The Maiden Masque ;" but 
it may not l:)e improper to state here, what is the truth, 
that the writer never had the pleasure of seeing, or 
even knowing the existence of. Lever's poem until 
some years after this composition was concluded. 

NOTE 7.— THE SLAVE'S REVENGE. Page 308. ' 

The incident which is the basis of these verses, will 
be found under the title "Antius Restio" — which was 
the name of the mastei", referred to in the text — in Ar- 
nold's " History of the Later Roman Commonwealth. " 



